“Santa Monica? We won’t make it back till ten!” I follow him into the kitchen.

“Who said anything about making it back?” he says with a grin. “There are some great hotels on the Westside. Have you stayed at Shutters?”

I stare at him. He’s kidding, right?

“We can get separate rooms,” Jay says, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, you deserve it. You’re a hero for what you did to Wallace!”

He walks over to the fridge, pulls out a bottle of white, uncorks it, and pours two glasses. He hands me a glass. “What do you say?”

I hold the glass up to my nose. I can tell he’s one of those guys who are not used to hearing the word “no.” And it would be so easy to just say yes, to sip chenin blanc all day, get in his Lambo, and drive to the beach. But then what about school tomorrow? What about Ms. Jones’s assignment?

“Another time,” I say, putting the glass down.

Jay drops his head and nods.

“I’ll drive you back,” he says. He grabs his keys, like he wants to go now. I look down. I’m standing in his kitchen still in my bathing suit, dripping wet.

“No it’s okay. I can get an Uber,” I offer. Quickly, I unlock my phone, open the app, and order myself a car.

He puts his glass down and turns and walks away without another word, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I head upstairs to change. As I’m leaving, I peek inside one of the bedrooms. Jay is sitting on his bed, playing video games. There are Pocky boxes and half-eaten bags of Fritos on the floor. A pair of dumbbells sits in the corner.

“Hey. My car’s here. I’m gonna go,” I say gently.

He doesn’t look up.

I wait a minute, and when he still doesn’t say anything, I turn around.

As I’m walking out, he calls after me, “Close the door on your way out . . .” No Goodbye. No I’ll see you at school.

I shake my head as I get into the Uber. What’s wrong with him? I throw my head back on the leather seat and sigh. As I reach for my water bottle in my backpack, a box falls out. It’s the box with the earrings, along with a note.

Sorry, I’m unreturnable, just like these earrings.

—Jay

Forty

Dani

Today’s the day. Mr. Connelly is going to announce who’s going to Snider. I hold my breath at training as he reads the names from the piece of paper in his hands.

“Josh Williams . . . Risha Laghari . . . Audrey Anderson . . .”

Josh, Risha, and Audrey whoop in excitement. Mr. Connelly calls out two more names, until he gets down to the final one.

Please . . . please . . . I need this.

“And the final person is . . . Heather McLean,” he says.