“Nothing,” Serena said. “Nothing is happening. Nothing at all.” She stood, walked to the edge, and threw Laurel’s button over. “Nothing,” she said again. She looked out into the air for a long time. When she finally backed away, she didn’t return to the blanket. Instead, she walked past us and into the woods without a word. I had the feeling of being shipwrecked.

“It’s not nothing,” I said, but they didn’t seem to hear me.

“You’re not being careful,” Laurel said. “You’re antagonizing her.” She was looking into the woods, as if waiting for something.

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” Janet said. “You know what I think.”

“Careful about what?” I said.

But they both looked at me in surprise, as if they had forgotten I was there.

The next day, during our free hours, I came into the dormitory to find Laurel rooting through my things. My bed was a mess; the clothes in my cubby were all over the floor.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“You have no sexy clothes, did you know that?” Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. “You dress like my aunt Pearl.”

“Serena said we’re not supposed to drink unless it’s for a reason,” I said primly.

“Who said anyone’s drinking?” she said.

“What happened with you and Harriet last summer?” I said, to hurt her.

She set down the pair of jeans she was holding. “Oh, please. What did she say?”

I raised my eyebrows, a bluff. She seemed to sway a little on the spot.

“It wasn’t going to work,” she said.

I still said nothing and Laurel looked down at her hands. “She didn’t fit in. Not everyone liked her.”

“Janet liked her,” I said, and then as if summoned, Janet appeared at Laurel’s side.

“Come on,” she said, tugging at the t-shirt in Laurel’s hand. “There’s no point in this. What are you even doing?” She looked apologetic but did not offer to help me pick up my things. Laurel pointed at me and narrowed her eyes, but she let Janet tug her through the door.

It was only when I started to replace my clothes, folding jeans and rolling shirts, that I noticed Nisha sitting on a bed in the corner, watching me and eating something out of a jar. MAMA’S FIRE TIBETAN HOT SAUCE. I wrinkled my nose.

“Transcendence, right,” she said, and put another spoonful in her mouth.