There was no way our friendship was this impermanent. I silently willed her to open the door, to give me even a sliver of hope that things could go back to normal. The morning breeze brushed my neck, but it felt like it went all the way through me. My bare legs trembled with the cold. I was paper-thin, seconds from crumpling into a ball.

“Penny, I am so sorry. The kiss meant nothing to either of us. He’s your boyfriend. I don’t want Chad, you know that. It was just—he was being stupid. But it’s not me he wants.” I hesitated. “It’s always been you. You know that.”

She had to remember that. She had to remember all our good times. Baking with her Easy-Bake Oven as children, my head lolling against hers as we smoked our first joint, passing notes in the back row at school. I still had a box of falling-apart notes, all of them written in the violet ballpoint we thought was so cool. Making daisy chains and napping under the huge tree in front of the library, lurid, dog-eared romance novels tucked in our backpacks.

“Penny!” I raised my fist and pounded on the door. “C’mon. Don’t do this.”

I waited for a scathing Go away! or even a text message asking to be left alone. But there was nothing. Cold crept into my chest. She didn’t even care enough to text me.

“Remember all those plans we had about this summer?” I said. “We were going to spend all summer together. You, me, Chad. We were going to eat fish tacos and ice cream every day. You said you wanted to go to Bar Harbor for shopping. You even got me to agree to that yoga class!”

My pleas fell on deaf ears.

It didn’t matter if she forgot all those promises, because she was already breaking the most important one of all. It was silent, something we never had to talk about, because we knew it, felt it, deep in our bones. When you were best friends with someone, it just went without saying that you would always stand with them. You’d fight side by side, against any obstacle, to get past anything.

“Penny,” I whispered. This was me, showing up, fighting. My best friend was nowhere in sight.

Just as I turned to leave, the door swung open. Penny was wearing a tank top and sleep shorts, a pink eye mask pushed into her hair. She was clutching a steaming mug of coffee in her hands, and her eyes weren’t bleary from sleep. Somewhere inside, a fan was whirring.

Relief flooded through me. I started to take a step forward, but she didn’t let me in. Body still blocking the doorway, she looked back at me coolly.

I came to a stop. “I’m sorry, Penny. I know you’re feeling—”

“No, you don’t,” she flared. “Did I kiss your boyfriend? No? So then you don’t know what I’m feeling.”

My throat was scratchy. “Fair enough.”