After a morning of icebreakers and a drawing project—I made sure to use green pencil for Kane—we ate our sack lunches under the trees surrounding the library, then left for our first “inspirational activity.” No one asked me why I’d run out of class, and Girl Sam didn’t say anything or even look at me differently, which I appreciated.

As the herd of twenty-four middle schoolers moved toward Pine Street, Karly walked backward like a tour guide, talking nonstop. A librarian followed behind to make sure no stragglers got lost, which was kind of funny, considering everyone knew where they were going except me, and even I could have found my way back to the cabin.

I trailed behind a group of three kids and was sort of next to Jasmine and a boy, but not with them, trying to listen to Karly while also freaking out, checking street corners for the old man.

“Most of you have lived here the majority of your lives,” Karly said, “but I want to challenge you to see it with fresh eyes. Tomorrow, we’ll be creating collage art inspired by today’s journey, so I hope you’ll take pictures to remind yourself of what you find interesting.”

“Did she say collage?” whispered the wiry boy who was now walking hand in hand with Jasmine. I realized that was why he’d been standing close to her inside: they were a thing. He laughed with a snort, ducking down and covering his mouth so he didn’t get in trouble. “Like in kindergarten?”

“Shh,” Jasmine said, smacking him. “Collage is legit. Ever heard of Man Ray?”

I hadn’t, so I felt less unworthy of art camp when the boy said, “Uh, no? I’ve heard of a manta ray, though.” He shook his head at Jasmine. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“It’s better than playing video games all summer long,” Jasmine said.

“Says who?”

Jasmine saw me watching them. She hooked a thumb at the boy and said, “My uncultured boyfriend, Axl.”

“What’s up?” Axl said, lifting his chin.

“What’s . . . hi,” I said quietly.

Way to be awkward, loser. No wonder you’ve never had a boyfriend yourself. You’re probably going to grow up to be a friendless, boyfriendless cat lady.

I refocused on Karly, who was talking about some historic motel we were about to pass. Apparently, it was once sold as part of a poker game and was used as a birthing center in the old days.

“Because of the harsh winters around here, doctors couldn’t get to the ranches, so women would come and stay at this motel to have their babies,” Karly said excitedly. “As you can see, it’s been lovingly maintained in its original log-cabin style. Beautiful!”

“More like boring,” Girl Sam said. I hadn’t noticed, but she’d walked up beside me. Izzy was on her other side.