An unpleasant breakfast of burned bacon and undercooked pancakes was spread out over two of the small dining room tables. It looked like no one had slept well, and the sight in front of them wasn’t helping. Spencer slumped in his seat, his hair still soaking wet from his shower, a faint trace of stubble around his jaw. Scarlett’s father was wearing one of his thrift store cowboy shirts again—a subdued black one with white piping—but he had misbuttoned it. Scarlett’s mom’s curls were as frazzled as her own for once, and she was furiously passing around the wet pancakes, trying to nudge Marlene into eating.

“What brought you back?” Spencer asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon or something?”

“I’m back to work,” Lola said. “Towels don’t fold themselves. No honeymoon, at least for a while. There’s a lot going on.”

Spencer laughed mirthlessly to himself and shoved a piece of badly burned bacon into his mouth.

“How long are you staying at the Peninsula?” Scarlett asked.

“A few more days,” Lola replied. “Just while we get everything…settled. Then Chip has to go back to school. He’s already missed a lot of classes.”

“You can always come and stay here,” her dad said a bit hesitantly. “You can have the Empire Suite.”

“I think we need…some space.”

“You mean there’s no way in hell Chip is going to come and stay here,” Spencer said. “It’s not really his standard of living.”

“Chip would be very happy to stay here,” Lola replied. “But I didn’t think you would appreciate having to live with him.”

“Good call,” Spencer said. He pushed himself away from the table. “Scarlett, if you want a ride, the car will be here in five minutes.”

“It’s okay,” Scarlett said, looking out at the gray sky. “I’ll walk.”

Scarlett cut across Central Park and made her meandering, diagonal way up the forty blocks past the joggers and the dog walkers and the moms with the big strollers. She had dressed carelessly, throwing on a pink shirt and an old blue skirt of Lola’s that didn’t really fit her right. It was a horrible day, too. Cloudy, but refusing to rain. Just gray, gray, gray. The leaves were just starting to shrivel and detach apathetically from the trees. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was late.

Scarlett stopped at the park gate and looked across the street. Frances Perkins looked like the big red loony bin more than ever. Today would be terrible. She would tank on her International Politics quiz. Her French homework was half-baked.

What she needed to do…was skip. Just walk away from school. You can’t lose if you don’t play.