Emma looked down at the dashboard and shrugged, and Dan hopped into the black velour of the passenger seat. They turned onto Marsh, then again onto Forest, cruising past the mini malls and drive-thrus, past the car wash, the Korean church, and the library. From there, they meandered back toward Dan’s house. The afternoon sun was blazing hot, but the cloud line had crept in, and there was a gust of wind as they cut through an alleyway behind Crown Shore that wound its way toward Truesdell, Emma’s street. They stopped and parked on a wide stretch of lawn at the end of the cul-de-sac where someone had planted a small orchard of crab apple trees.

“So what’s going on?” Emma asked.

“People are just fucking . . . disappointing.”

“Like who?”

“Never mind.” Dan flicked his lighter and stared down at the angry yellow flame.

“So what do you want to do?” Emma knew she wasn’t going to get the full story. Another blast of humid wind came down the alley, tipping over trash cans. Dan scratched at his neck, sheepish, irritated. He was still coming down off his anger over the Cady rejection. His fear and grief over his father he couldn’t even touch.

Dan looked into Emma’s brown eyes as they glimmered. The now-steady breeze caused a cloud of gnats and mayflies to scatter down from the crab trees. This girl likes you. Has always liked you, idiot.

“We could watch a movie at my house,” Emma offered. She popped the car into park and swung her smooth, brown legs over the wheel and kicked them out the window. The sky was now fully gray, everything thrown under sudden shade. Emma leaned back toward Dan, who was holding her basketball. Dan leaned toward Emma. He was profoundly confused. Now? Is this happening now? Just then Emma brought her hand slowly toward his lap.

And tried to steal the ball from him.

She slapped at it, laughed at her own sneakiness, then grabbed at the basketball, but Dan had a solid grip, and they wrestled back and forth, his arm rubbing against hers in all its softness.

“Let go.”

“Try to take it.”

“Are you coming over or what? It’s about to storm.” Little shots of hail started pinging the hood of the car.

“I’d like to, but—”

“Come on.” She snatched at the ball again with one hand, prying Dan away with the other on his chest. “Stop it. It’s my ball.”

“Stop what?” He gripped the ball tighter. He was stronger, but not by much, and now they were sitting really close, still wrestling for the ball. Emma tried to tickle the ball free by reaching under his arms; Dan wasn’t really fighting back. The wind swirled the branches of the crab trees something hectic. They looked at each other, both frightened, a rush of nerves. And Emma pulled away, unsure.

“Hey, wait,” Dan said softly.