A couple of weeks ago, Mrs. Wang had told me to come by so she could take my measurements, but I hadn’t gone over. I had to talk to Penny first. I couldn’t let what happened with Chad hang over our friendship. I already had a plan in place—I’d make up a batch of Penny’s favorite oatmeal raisin cookies and bring them over to her houseboat. Then I’d broach the topic and explain what had happened that day on the beach when Chad had kissed me. I’d tell her that it meant nothing. I was definitely not into Chad, and despite the kiss, I didn’t think that he wanted to be with me. It was foolishness, that was all.

“I don’t know if I’m entering this year,” I said. “Kind of depends on what happens with Penny.”

“You can do it with me. My mom’s super stoked I actually agreed to do it this year and wants to take me dress shopping in Bar Harbor.” Lucy shot me a grin before bumping the volleyball off her knee. The ball soared through the air in a gentle arc.

“We’ve done it together the last two years,” I pointed out, sending it back to her. “And it’s cheaper with Mrs. Wang. I don’t have the money for an expensive dress.”

Lucy returned it with a powerful spike, sending me in a fumbled dive. Despite her petite stature, she was a powerhouse of energy.

Two feet short of the ball, I landed on the soft sand. “I thought we were playing for fun,” I said, brushing the sand off my knees.

I didn’t buy her innocent look for a moment as she said, “We are.”

Our second game had the same result, a flurry of short, explosive motions culminating in me biting the sand—again.

“I wish it hadn’t taken us so long to get around to doing, you know, stuff like this,” said Lucy, bouncing the ball over to me.

“What do you mean?” This time, I managed to return it.

“Just … sometimes it felt like just because you had Penny and Chad, that sort of stood in the way of our getting closer?”

“We’ve hung out before.” But I couldn’t really put my finger on when.

Lucy laughed. “Nah, we haven’t. Not like this.” She sent the ball back to me.

I scampered after it, wincing as it hit my wrist bone in a sloppy return. It was a knee-jerk reaction to protest, but she was right. People who had hit their friend quotient tended not to look outside the equation.