“Oh, I forgot about your text,” she said suddenly. “What’d you want to tell me?”

Jack. I didn’t know how to tell her about him. Our nights had sharply diverged when she left me at Summer’s house. She seemed so devastated by what happened at the party that I felt bad telling her what an amazing time I’d had with Jack.

“Nothing,” I said, deciding to fill her in later. I told myself I was sparing her feelings, but maybe I was just scared to tell her about him, unsure of how she’d react when she was angry like this, if it would only anger her more.

I kept hoping she’d change her mind about the prank on Christian. We spent the day watching movies, going for a drive, and smoking in the car—all the things I’d wanted to do with her the night before. I didn’t mention Christian at all until the drive back to my house late Saturday night when she brought up the plan again, clearly still intent on going through with it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked her when we pulled into my neighborhood. “I mean, will it really make you feel better?”

She turned to me sharply. “Of course it’ll make me feel better. That’s the whole point. Remember when we pranked your ex?”

“Yeah, but—” I wanted to tell her it wasn’t the same. That Christian was my brother. That we couldn’t just do this, drive away, and never look back.

As much as I hated him, I still had to live with him. And I could get into serious trouble with my parents.

“Why is this so important to you?” I said, growing frustrated. Things were bad enough at home for me, and I couldn’t afford to make it worse.

“It just is,” she snapped.

“But why?” I asked. Christian had been right—Dad was gone for ten days but ultimately returned. The house had recently settled back into a tense quiet, with Mom and Dad avoiding each other, sleeping in separate rooms. One of them leaving early for work, the other coming home late.

I hated that Christian had been right, that they ran on such an awful but predictable loop, but I was also just relieved that Dad had come back.

She parked down the street from my house but left the car running. “Look. I can’t always do something about every single injustice, but when I can, I will.”

“What are you talking about?” I said.

“You wouldn’t understand.” The sudden sadness in her voice startled me.

“Wouldn’t understand what?” Elise never hesitated. She was fearless, especially when she saw an injustice.

“Nothing, never mind,” she said coldly, turning firmly away from me.

“Don’t do this,” I said. “No one else is here. It’s just you and me. You know you can tell me anything. Don’t shut me out.” When she didn’t respond, I pulled out her cigarettes and lit two for us, and she finally turned around to face me when accepting one.