As usual, it’s hard to see much of anything besides Willow’s hair. It’s in its standard ponytail, but more than half of it is falling out in big loose curls that frame her face, and she tugs it to tighten it. Today’s outfit is a short, crumpled dress with little blue flowers all over it, plus a pair of white sneakers with shoelaces that are untied. I feel like I could survey a hundred guys and not one of them would list “untied shoes” as something they find attractive, but that’s only because they haven’t met Willow and her ghostly white legs.

Which I need to stop staring at. “Willow!” My voice is spiked with excitement, which is completely annihilating the laid-back vibe I’m aiming for, but I can’t help it. “You made it.”

“Sorry, I lost track of time.” For some reason I can’t possibly guess at, her cheeks turn rose petal pink. She clutches her book to her chest, which makes my heart swoop. She brought my star log, right? I’m missing it so much right now, it’s hard to keep still.

“Did you remember…,” I whisper, miming writing.

She gives me a knowing nod, gesturing to her backpack. “In here.”

Relief floods me. Willow is here, and so is my star log. I can breathe. I want to grab it from her immediately, but I have to play the long game. Act normal.

“Willow,” Emma says, walking up behind me. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Emma.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Willow says. She looks surprised by Emma, her eyes wide as she takes in her tattoos and piercings, but a smile spreads across her face.

“Emma’s my foster mom,” I add quickly so Emma gets the hint that Willow already knows. I normally don’t tell people I’m in foster care. I decided a long time ago that it was easier just to tell them that I was staying with relatives. But with Willow I decided to take the chance—if she’s really a sign, then it’s probably better that I tell her the truth, and besides, it’s possible she already knew from reading through my notebook. It had been exactly as awkward as I’d thought it would be, but at least she hadn’t asked a lot of questions. Emma meets my eye calmly, blinking once like, Understood. I’m not sure how I feel about communicating via facial expression with Emma, but for once I’m glad for her poker face.

She glances back at Willow. “I hear your mom inherited the Bell family house. So much history there. And those gardens.”

Red Sox Hat is now full-on snorting. I know we should be starting the tour, but I appreciate that Emma’s taking a moment with Willow.