When Elise’s grandmother left her the Pink Mansion in the will, her dad had wanted to “unload it.” That’s what Elise said, complete with air quotes. They drove down from Chattanooga one weekend the summer before sophomore year to meet with real estate agents, and that’s how her father met Heidi.

“Do you not like her?” I asked, wondering why he was always at her place and never the other way around.

“I’ve met her a few times. She’s okay I guess,” she said, like she hadn’t ever given it much thought. “She’s not trying to be my mom, so I don’t hate her.”

Elise didn’t like talking about her family, barely ever mentioning her father and never talking about her mother. All I knew about her was what Elise had told me that first night. I couldn’t tell if she never wanted to talk about her mom because she missed her or because she didn’t.

• • •

It was almost one in the morning when we pulled into her driveway. She parked but didn’t get out, staring off into the distance. Shivering from the cold, I grabbed the cigarettes and she lit two. The wind gently lifted her hair off her shoulders, and in the moonlight she looked ethereal—skin glowing, eyes sparkling, a hint of a smile on her lips. I wondered if she was imagining what the future held.

“Why are you here with me?” I asked. I realized I sounded insecure but I needed to know what she saw in me. “I mean, why do you even like me? I’m not . . .” I left the rest unsaid. I’m not pretty like you, not funny or brilliant like you. I’m not interesting like you.

“I make it a policy to have an opinion on everyone, and I have pretty good instincts,” she said, turning toward me. “I’d noticed you around school before the night of homecoming. I thought you were a Hermione.”

“A Hermione.” I looked at her in confusion.

“You know: straight As, boring, tame. A little like Melody, no offense.”

“Wow,” I said. I was hurt but tried to pretend I wasn’t. “Is that what you really thought when you first saw me?”

“Yes, but I was wrong,” she said, draping an arm around my shoulders. “I’ve never been more wrong about someone in my life.”

I shot her a skeptical look, but felt a little better.

“I’m serious. Your ex-boyfriend was an asshole, but in a way I’m glad. Because I got to meet you. The real you,” she said, playing with my hair.

“Spoiler alert: I am pretty boring,” I joked.

Elise shook her head. “No, you’re not. You’re just like me. You’re tough, you’ve been through a lot, more than any of the losers at this school.” She turned to face me, staring into my soul. “That makes you special. Surviving—having to survive—makes you stronger. Things have never been easy for people like us, Rem. I’m really, really glad I met you.”