After dinner, I showered and changed into my pajamas, then sat down in bed and tried to read. I’d decided I would finish the gardening book. Until school started, I would focus on working outside. Fresh air and a lack of (Barrett) distractions would do me good. I could still improve my relationship with Laura and show the family my gratitude by helping out as much as possible. I could start cooking, too. And cleaning. I would just immerse myself in being a penniless orphan, collecting the checkmarks.

As usual, the gardening book got the better of me within about three pages. As I was setting it on my nightstand, Laura came to the door, teacups in hand, and sat on the edge of my bed.

“How are you?” she asked softly. “I noticed you were quiet at dinner.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “A little sleepy.”

She handed me my teacup. I inhaled the soft, spicy aroma and then took a sip. “Sleepy? Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

Great, I was making it worse. “No, no,” I said, rubbing the skin just above my eyebrows as if there was an ache behind them. “It’s just . . . my sinuses, I think. Allergies.”

She visibly relaxed. “I wanted to tell you that Barrett is leaving.”

I almost dropped my teacup.

She was very careful not to look at me. “He’s going to stay with a friend until the new school year starts. It’s so hard for him to be here. Our pace of life is too slow for a dynamic teenage boy.”

Oh, but it was fine for me? Was I not dynamic?

After moving past the perceived insult (aided in part by admitting to myself that I was not, in fact, dynamic), I had time to think about what she was actually saying. Barrett would be gone. I felt a sudden stab of loss—not just because of the kissing, but because when we weren’t kissing, he was a nice person to talk to. The only person, in fact, for me to talk to in any real way.

For a moment, I wondered—was she doing this because she knew he liked me? Was that why she had said the things she’d said? That seemed like it was assuming too much—making myself too important. I was nothing, remember? An amusement?

“John will drive him over to Glencoe tomorrow,” she said.

Tomorrow?

I made an attempt to hide my surprise and drink my tea as if nothing was wrong. But I inhaled some and ended up coughing and sputtering while Laura took my teacup and held it.

“Goodness,” she said. “Coughing like that, you should stay in bed tomorrow.”

“No,” I said. “I just got some tea down the wrong pipe.”

She looked at me doubtfully.