Her mother practically cried with happiness, and Carly wouldn’t let on that she was this close to barfing it all over the kitchen floor.

John hovered over breakfast with them, which wasn’t what he normally did on school mornings. He chattered about taking the day off. He’d cut the grass and call the gutter man and order the mulch they’d been meaning to get. And he’d get the sidelight glass replaced.

Yeah. Fixing what the not-dead dead guy broke was just one chore among many. No big deal.

Carly didn’t trust her poker face enough to look at him even though she could feel him trying to draw her into a good long head invasion, pulling at her with his own stare while he talked.

He asked if she wanted him to pick her up from school later.

No. No, she did not.

But it came out on a smooth fib. “No, that’s okay. I’m going to the library to meet up with Emma. We’re going to get in some more drawing practice.” She glanced up at the grown-ups. “Ada’s coming, too.” She held out her glass for more juice. “It’ll be fun.”

Which brought them to what they really wanted to know—what was she going to say today, out there to everybody, about last night?

That was easy. No fib required.

“I’m not saying anything. As if. It’s over. It’s been weird enough around here lately. And Ada will be on my side. She won’t say anything either. Or I’ll feed her ukulele to the fire pit.”

•  •  •

Carly texted Emma: Can you come to the library today?

The read receipt ticked over immediately.

She waited for a reply, bouncing her pencil off its eraser against the lunch table.

“Can you not?” Ada scowled at the jittery drumming.

Carly stopped and Ada went back to her math homework.

Emma hadn’t sent back a message.

Carly typed again. Please?

Read.

Sure. Right after school?

Yes OMG thanks.

Carly hadn’t been able to think of a way to leave school, the daydream plot getting crazier and more unlikely by the hour. She couldn’t do it. It was funny what she had in her and what she didn’t. But now she had the rest of the day to think of a way to get Emma to take her out there without having to tell her why.

•  •  •

“Did you and Ada have a falling out?” asked Emma.

Carly looked up from the shading that was going into the portrait all wrong. Too dark. Bad angle. She wanted to throw her pencil across the room.

“No.”

“Oh. You’ve just never been here without her is all.”

Carly looked back down at the drawing and the tears came. She ripped the page from the sketchbook, crumpled the paper, and shoved the wad of it down the long table. “Stupid thing.”