“Sorry, I was in a hurry. I lost track of time doing homework,” I say. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Your studies are important, but you need to structure your time so you can do things the right way. You know what kinds of bacteria grow in meat sitting out at room temperature — horrible things that could make you very sick.” Mom glances around the kitchen, her breathing getting shallower. She taps the thumb of her right hand sequentially against the tips of her other fingers. Even though she’s not counting, I can still hear it in my head: one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four.

“I was careful,” I say. A lie. “I’ll bleach the counters right away.” Not a lie. “Please don’t worry. I only just started, and the beef has only been out of the fridge for a few minutes . . .”

“Did I close the garage?” She suddenly looks stricken, like she hasn’t asked me this question nearly every day, like she doesn’t always close the door on her way in from work. But anxiety has its own logic, like a spark that leaps from one stressor to the next until even the smallest thing is swallowed in flames of worry and fear.

She hurries out of the room, and I exhale a long, rattling breath.

I check my phone to find a text from Will and another from Zoe. I go straight to hers. It’s a whole series, and my heart grows ten sizes with each one.

*tiptoes over skulls*

*approaches giant chest*

*lifts creaky lid, jumping when Humphrey snorts in his sleep*

*ogles mountain of sparkling gemstones and gleaming bricks of gold*

*sifts longingly through rubies and sapphires*

*unearths the occasional bottle of Dragon Fire sauce XXX hot*

I love how the place we are building expands with every text she sends. I feel like I’m floating as I write my responses:

*hands you a tiara that sparkles with jewels*

*picks up a sword and tries to sneak off with it*

*face-plants into a pile of rugs and tapestries*

It’s like I’m five years old again and playing pretend, but so much better.

I flip over to Will’s message. OMG YOU ARE A GENIUS. He goes on to tell me at length about his date with Kitty. As far as I can tell, it mostly consisted of them preparing for a quiz in AP History and talking about Kitty’s obsession with Yuri on Ice. Apparently he now thinks I’m some sort of girl whisperer, since asking her questions got him a detailed description of the entire plot of the aforementioned homoerotic sports anime.

I can’t say I follow his logic.