“Now you have to tell me,” I pushed.

Eliza sighed. “I don’t have to do anything, Nick. That’s the difference between you and me. You play with your friends like you’re an All-Powerful Bro-Emperor, and I just . . . get to be Carter’s kid sister and watch it all unfold.”

The table between us suddenly seemed like Antarctica, but in size and climate, and without the cute penguins.

“You know you’re more than that,” I said.

“Leave me out of it.”

I remained seated, dumbfounded, completely losing track of this conversation. The subtext, or lack thereof, or some combination of hidden meanings made it seem like we were speaking in different languages.

“Any girl would love to date me.” That made her look at me.

“Why? Whenever you wanted, you’d find someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

She folded her arms across her chest, with her back against the sink. “I, for one, would be scared. Dating you. Like you hooked up with Madison last week and are now suddenly into Hannah? That’s not just kind of rude. It’s a selfish way to treat people.”

Her words washed over me like I’d found the Antarctic penguins and was playing on their favorite waterslide.

“Thanks for the help,” she continued, starting to tackle the stacks of dirty pans and cans. “I can take it from here.”

I didn’t move, my legs weighing like bricks on the floor. “You do know I care about my friends, right?”

And you.

“Sure you do. Today.”

“Then I look forward to proving you wrong tomorrow.”

I left her house with the aroma of burned garlic on my clothes. Whatever. If Eliza wants to be honest with me, let her. Although I hadn’t exactly been honest with her.

Something had to be up. Her attitude about this wasn’t really about me, was it? My AP psych readings about Freud said that strong emotional responses were conflicts you were having with different parts of yourself. (Would you look at that, I learned something!) Maybe, on some level, it was about her dad leaving them for a new family. About anyone except for me.

My phone buzzed for the millionth time that day.

How’d it go?

“Go ’way,” I muttered. Madison could go fall off a bridge. Did she give me bad advice on purpose? I should have known, that would be a total Madison move.

I’m going to take the silence as a good thing , she pinged.

Stomping hard on the brake pedal, I wrote back, Go fall in a river.

I forced the car into gear and blasted the country radio station. Maybe the drive would help me forget my idiotic decision-making skills.

A second later, my Mission: Impossible ringtone sounded. Incoming call from Madison.

I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat, and the screen lit up. What happened????

When I didn’t reply, Madison called again.

“What, Madison?” I yelled as the phone slid on the seat.

“What a way to greet someone,” she sounded as silky as ever. “Did you do exactly what I told you to?”