I nodded.

“Yes, of course. They left after dinner.”

“But I didn’t get to say goodbye!” I was too distraught to keep my voice low. “Why didn’t someone wake me up?”

She glanced at me with reproach in her eyes, on the verge of reprimanding me. “I tried, Margot,” she said. “You said that I should tell them goodbye for you.”

I wavered. I didn’t want to believe her, but I couldn’t even remember falling asleep.

“You don’t remember?” she asked, sounding worried.

I didn’t answer.

Laura frowned.

Forget it. I needed to be alone. I needed to go back to my room and cry my eyes out over the fact that not only had I missed a chance to see Barrett one last time, but that he thought I’d chosen a nap over being there when they left.

“Are you hungry?” Laura said. “I saved some dinner for you.”

“No, thank you,” I choked out.

Her lips flattened, but she nodded. “I’m very sorry. I know you and Barrett were friendly.”

By the time I reached the stairs, I was crying so hard I couldn’t see.

I went back to my room, changed into my pajamas, and climbed under the covers. I didn’t even wash my face or brush my teeth. I just wanted to fall asleep and forget about everything.

MY DREAM WAS simple: Barrett and I were sitting on the bench, looking out over the grounds. It was lovely to be so near him, to be holding his hand.

“Look,” he said. “Here they come.”

I looked around, suddenly uneasy. Who was coming? For some reason, I expected to see my family—in their usual deadness, slack-muscled and vacant-eyed.

But for once it wasn’t them.

And then I saw what he meant—all over the ground around us, and as far as the eye could see, tiny green shoots were poking through the grass. They grew as thickly as a plague of locusts, and I pulled my legs up onto the bench to keep them from touching my legs.

“I don’t like this,” I said. “Your mother doesn’t like the lilies.”

“It’s not about what she likes,” Barrett said. “She hates everything.”

I watched the green stalks climb into the air as if they were the product of magic beans, and my chest began to feel tight. I gripped Barrett’s hand harder, but he pulled free and stood up. “I have to go now,” he said. “See you in October.”

“But what if I need your help?” I asked.

He was already walking away. The lilies were gigantic around him, like stalks of corn, and just before he vanished into the thick forest of them, he said, “I’m not the one who stands up to her.”

I wanted to ask what he meant, but then he was gone.