Elise unbuckled her seat belt, reaching a hand out.

I put down my bubble tea and hid my face behind both hands, starting to sob. Pathetic.

“Come over here,” Elise said, arm still extended. “Come over here and stop making dying whale noises.”

A laugh bubbled through my sobs and I coughed. Scooting over, I leaned my head on her shoulder. She felt safe, even though we’d just met. She felt solid, like she’d stay if I asked.

“Boys are stupid,” she said.

“Boys are stupid,” I agreed.

“There was this guy at my old school. He knew I liked him, you know? And I think he enjoyed it, having someone fawn over him, laugh at all his jokes, hang on to every word. He asked me to prom last year and I was just so happy. I bought this red dress, new shoes, new makeup. But then the day before, he texted me that he wasn’t feeling well, that he was going to stay home.

“He lied, of course. The girl he liked had just been dumped by her boyfriend and was suddenly without a date for prom. And as soon as he heard, he dropped me, just like that. He didn’t care if I’d bought a new dress, he didn’t care if he’d broken my heart. He was casually cruel because he didn’t need me anymore and I was now an inconvenience.” She sounded bitter but also strong. This thing that had hurt her couldn’t anymore, and nothing would penetrate the armor she’d forged for herself. I wanted to be like that. I wanted to stop hurting.

I turned my head to look up at Elise.

“Fuck boys,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Fuck boys,” I agreed.

“Come on,” she said, sitting up. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I know just what you need.”

7.

When we pulled into her driveway, I gawked at the house.

“You live in the Pink Mansion?” I said, still staring as we pulled to a stop.

“What?”

“The Pink Mansion. This was on my bus route to middle school and that’s what we called it. I didn’t know if anyone lived there, though we’d see gardeners once in a while.” It was one of the last remaining estates in the area, the rest all carved up into gated subdivisions or remade into lush golf courses.

We went in and climbed all the way up to the attic. The house was dark and a little too quiet. The pink, soft in daylight, took on an almost sickly mauve. The grounds looked a little neglected, grass unmowed and weeds in the flowerbeds.

“My dad’s at his girlfriend’s house,” Elise said by way of explanation, not saying anything else, just shrugging and turning away like she didn’t want to talk about it. I wondered about her mom, where she was.

Elise walked around the attic through the clutter of boxes, ducking her head under low beams. “I know it’s here somewhere.”

I followed her around, sneezing from the dust, touching the odd Christmas ornament or picture frame.