When normal adults asked this question, Scarlett would move through a rote response indicating that school was school and the experience had yet to kill her. But Miranda Biggs didn’t ask innocent, polite questions. She wanted to know about Max. Of that, Scarlett was sure, and she wasn’t going to tell. Scarlett decided that she would talk about absolutely everything else, much more than she wanted to know. She walked Miranda through periods one through seven, everything but Bio. Scarlett listened to the impatient thwack of vegetables being chopped.

“Right,” Miranda said, her voice barely concealing her impatience, “but don’t you and Max have a class together? Biology?”

“Oh,” Scarlett said as if just remembering this. “Yeah.”

“And how’s that?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Well,” Scarlett said, “it’s just been a few days.”

More dismemberment of vegetables. Scarlett smiled to herself.

There was a jangle of keys, and Chelsea appeared. Her hair was back in two chunky little braids, and she wore a sleek exercise outfit. She was makeup-free, but had flushed little apple cheeks, fresh from a workout of some kind.

“Oh hi!” she chirped. “Just had to meet my trainer for a session.”

“Good,” Miranda said. “You’re here. I have to go out and get more broccoli. Did you do free weights?”

“No. I think I pulled something in my neck. Derrick told me I’d better not push it or I might have trouble during the show tonight.”

“I know the muscle mass is making your weight go up a little, but as long as we balance out the rest…”

“He’s checking every day,” Chelsea said. “I’ve gained five pounds, but I’m obviously leaner.”

“As long as he’s checking.”

On that unpleasant note, Miranda left to get her broccoli, and Chelsea excused herself to take a shower. Scarlett finally took a seat on the sofa and stared at the piles of Max’s things.

Chelsea was a quick showerer. She was back in a few minutes, wrapped in a towel.

“One sec,” she said, disappearing into what Scarlett presumed was her bedroom to change. It looked like there were two bedrooms in this apartment—one for Chelsea, and one for Chelsea’s mom.

“Must be kind of hard,” Scarlett said. “All three of you in here.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Chelsea emerged, dressed in a nearly identical set of exercise clothes. Scarlett had a feeling that if she looked through Chelsea’s drawers, she would find a dozen of these uniforms. “Max sleeps in here, which is why his stuff is everywhere. It’s a pain for him to be in the living room, but in a way, he has the most space.”

She shrugged away his lack of privacy as if it simply could not be helped, and sat down next to Scarlett to put on her sneakers.