“I mean in the café.” Heidi straightened her neck. “They liked me and you stole all the attention.”

“Who cares? They’re a bunch of old people. And you made that whole speech. I thought you wanted them to like me.”

She had, at first. She’d pitied Kim.

“I saw your face.” Kim brushed snow off her sneakers. “You know I made it up. The band and stuff.”

“I’ve always known,” Heidi lied. A darkness opened in her core for lying.

“No.” Kim’s teeth clicked together in the cold. “I’m glad. You know me, Heidi. I love that.” She snatched Heidi’s hand.

Heidi waited one polite second before easing her hand free. “That’s nice.”

“I left my sweatshirt in her car.”

“Yeah, right.” Kim was meticulous about clothes, especially her purple sweatshirt with 1998 emblazoned across the front. She stored it on a yellow hanger that she swore was made of gold.

“So I’ll have to see her again.” Kim looked over the top of the boulder. Lisa Parsons’s car idled, exhaust integrating with the flakes. Why hadn’t she left? Had Kim’s trick worked? Was Lisa Parsons gathering the nerve to knock on the condo door and return the sweatshirt?

“Should I go now? I should, right? That’s what a date is?” Kim squished her lips like she wanted Heidi to stop her. She inched toward the lot. Heidi caught her by the wrist.

“Don’t.”

Kim puffed air into her cheeks. “Really?”

Heidi couldn’t stand the idea of Kim winning Lisa Parsons over her. “You have all this mystery. The girl with the stories, who doesn’t need anyone. You don’t want to spoil that, right? I’ll get your sweatshirt.” She spoke softly. If she sounded kind, maybe she would be. “I’ll tell her I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“One practice kiss.”

“What?”

Kim pulled Heidi in by the cheeks and slammed their mouths together so the whole snowy expanse flashed red and throbbing, as though Heidi’s head was wrapped in someone’s giant vein. Heidi shook free, escaping a licking dog. Soggy and slouched, she deserted the boulder.

Heidi restrained herself from sprinting back to the cozy world contained within the car. She already missed Lisa Parsons’s sleek hair, the soft fold of her mouth, the chance to be free of this town with its bowling alleys and cottony dogs and dads who kept you indoors. She stepped up to the car and peered through the passenger window. Lisa Parsons wasn’t holding the sweatshirt, awaiting Kim’s return. She was slumped over the steering wheel, her hair fanned on the dashboard, like she was dead.

Heidi knocked, loosening the ice shards that had formed on the glass.

Lisa Parsons startled. Shaking her head, recovering, she reached across the empty seat and opened the door.