Fortified by the cake, I push through the afternoon, including a spirit rally that gives me a headache. The marching band already stomped through the halls of the entire school, and now, watching the football players and cheerleaders and pom squad turning themselves inside out with enthusiasm for a game, for something that seems so small, so unimportant, I feel like an alien that dropped in. I have a sudden desire to bolt, to sprint to the studio theater and sit alone on the set of The World Over. I would rather be in a place that feels less tethered to my real world than at this pointless-seeming display of school spirit.

But I sit with Hunter and our friends, and in between whooping and hollering, they discuss plans for the weekend. I don’t have anything to contribute to that conversation — it’s mostly about the after-party, which I’m not going to, and about the girls’ hair and manicure appointments, which I’m also not doing. I can do my own hair and nails, as my dad would surely (and rightly) point out. While a hundred-plus bucks for salon appointments is nothing to Cammie and probably to Syd and Erin, my family has a pretty strict budget.

My lack of enthusiasm for all of this makes me miss Sam even more. She’d understand what a waste of time it seems like, hanging with a bunch of drunk kids at a dance to celebrate a sports game, especially when my heart is somewhere else: with Jonah.

Still, that night I find myself at the football game, shivering despite the stadium blanket and Hunter’s warm arm around me. He’s waiting for the arrival of his brothers, both former West Hills football stars, both at University of Oregon, and he keeps checking his phone.

And all I can think about is my parents sitting alone at home. Guilt chews at me; I don’t think they should have to have the first Jonah-less evening without me there to support them. But they urged me to go to the game, saying there was no point in sitting around feeling sad. And it’s made Hunter happy, my being here. He seems to be trying to be a good sport about the overnighter, possibly so as not to let it ruin everything else. Still, things aren’t quite right between us. I don’t know if it’s him or me or both. Stress twists through me. There is no way to be everything everyone needs, and I can’t bear it that no matter how hard I try to make the right choices, I’m going to disappoint someone.

Rain needles off the overhang that roofs the bleachers. I have no idea what’s happening on the field, although I can see the scoreboard. We’re still in the first quarter, somehow, and the score is 0 – 0. It’s going to be a long night.