“What I’m saying is that I’m trusting this. It seems like a very good thing. You know I’m okay with you going to the library—with Ada, always with Ada—but you don’t go anywhere else until you’ve told me. We all need to get over this, but I need to know where you are. Right? If Emma, or anyone, wants you to do something else or meet up somewhere else—any changes like that go through me first. I need that. Okay? Or call John if you can’t get me on the phone.”

Carly felt a spark of indignation at the suggestion that she wouldn’t know when to call in, but she reined it back. No one was over the thing yet. Her mom still got that look on her face all the time. John was jumpy, either too quiet or too chatty, making sure everyone was okay all the time. Ada mostly wouldn’t let Carly walk half a block by herself, then watched her on a tracking app they shared with Carly’s mom when it couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t a bad thing. If they weren’t over it, it meant she didn’t have to be either. She didn’t have to be alone with it yet.

“I know,” Carly said. “I promise.” For extra points, and because it felt good to be good, she walked over to the table and hugged her mother.

Her mother tried to be cool and poke at the corners of her eyes as if they itched. “All right. Good. Glad we’re in agreement, because it’s nonnegotiable, anyway.” That smirk. Her phone rang. “And double-check with John about the picture,” she said quickly before answering the call.

“Okay.”

John was in his office, leaning against the window frame, typing into his phone.

“Hi,” she said.

John slid the phone into his pocket. “Hi!”

“Did you get a new phone?”

“What? Uh, yeah.”

“Oh! Cool! Can I see it?”

“Not right now, Carlzee. I’m kinda slammed. What do you need?”

Over the last few days, every foot closer she got to John was like walking under power lines. It seemed as if she could feel him through the walls, a teeth-buzzing hum overhead when he was upstairs.

This was the worst yet, though. He was trying so hard to look normal—a mighty thick layer of trying, too. A John mask, or a full face of TV makeup that wasn’t quite the right color and too smooth by a lot.

Carly shoved her hands into her back pockets to keep them from being awkward. It always took at least two to play the normal game. She’d gotten good at the face part lately, since all the people with their questions and comments and open stares. But her hands definitely didn’t know the rules. “Everything okay?”