Not exactly the ringing endorsement I was hoping for, but I’ll take it. My stomach sank to my knees earlier this afternoon when he asked me outside of Jake’s Convenience if I knew why he was angry. I put him off as best I could, but he seemed to disappear after that. When he led me into Jake’s and bought snacks for both of us, it was like I had the old Julian back. As I watched him pay for all of it, I had it in my head that I was going to apologize to him. Put all that stuff in the past behind us. I couldn’t tell him about Coley just yet, because of the promise I had made to Frankie, but maybe I could explain a little bit. At the very least, I was going to say that I was sorry.

Because of course I knew why he was angry.

I left. Poof. Without an explanation. Without saying goodbye.

Disappearing without warning was probably a decent reason for someone to be angry with you. Especially after what we shared in the locker room. Things got massively complicated after that, and I was fourteen and overwhelmed. It’s not a great excuse, but it’s what happened.

I tell Camille I’m in for Burger Barn, and we drag a few more bags and boxes and the big ice chest out to Ms. Birdie’s car. She shoves a five-dollar bill in my pocket when no one is looking. “You have fun, now. And don’t you worry about Julian. He’s just a big grump. Everything will come out in the wash.” She winks at me.

It’s a short walk down Main Street to the outdoor tables at Burger Barn. A handful of kids are hanging out, but we settle ourselves away from the crowd at a small round picnic table with a bright blue umbrella after we order our ice cream at the window.

“Homecoming is only a few weeks away,” Camille says, taking a long sip of her banana milkshake. “Do y’all have any plans?”

Homecoming. I missed it by a couple of weeks when we lived in Meridien before, and I didn’t participate in any of it at my school in Houston, either. Frankie and her friends always loved everything about it, though. The mums the girls wore around their necks and the garters the boys wore around their biceps at school the Friday of the football game. The dance the next night, when everyone wore sparkly dresses and dry-cleaned suits and took a million selfies outside the decorated gym. The alumni barbecues on Sunday afternoon.

“Don’t remind me.” Julian shakes his head and dips his plastic spoon into the sundae he’s devouring.

“What’s wrong with homecoming?” I ask, licking at my swirled cone.