“I want to go home,” Hazel says. “I don’t want to share a bedroom. I don’t want to share a bathroom. I don’t want to go into those stupid rooms or cook in—”

“Haze, stop,” I say, wrapping my arm around her back. “We’ll get through this together.” I want to tell her that my parents won’t believe I’ve run away—and neither will hers. Yes, we have told them we want to move to the city someday. But we’d never just pick up and leave, cutting all ties with our parents.

They will look for us. The police will look for us, and someone will make a connection. Maybe someone saw me talking to Caleb earlier today or maybe someone saw me and Hazel getting into his car. There’s not a lot of traffic by the lake, but someone could have driven past. Someone could have left the bonfire early and seen us.

Did I see another car or a motorcycle? I don’t remember, but Hazel and I were very focused on Caleb and Owen. How stupid.

She looks up at me and her brown eyes fill with despair. “Will we?”

Hazel wants me to reassure her, to promise that we’ll be okay, and we’ll get out. But that’s not a promise I can make any longer. And I’m scared that Hazel will never forgive me for getting us into this. She is like a second sister, and I can’t lose her, too.

“We’ll stick together and figure out how to keep fighting.” Whatever it is, we’re going to be fighting it.

Hazel either doesn’t recognize my reluctance to offer any promises or she doesn’t want to admit to herself why I won’t.

“Do you want to look around?” Theo asks.

I nod. “Absolutely.”

The door Hazel and I just came through can’t be the only way out of here…can it?

I get to my feet, and Theo is the only other person to stand. The other three must know every inch of this space, even if Hazel and I don’t.

“Are you coming?” I ask my friend.

“No, thanks.”

Sighing, I turn to Theo. “Okay, let’s go. Lead the way.”

He looks back at Hazel but doesn’t say anything. No one can make her face this. She has to get there alone. The others stay where they are, too, leaving the talking and tour to Theo.

We go through the arch and into the kitchen. It’s modern and white with clean lines. But there is no oven, only a microwave, toaster, and an electric kettle.

“What do you eat?”

He smiles. “It’s basic food: toast, cereal, pasta, soup, bread, and microwave meals. Sometimes they send in pizza.”

“How do they get food in here?”

“They leave it in the waiting room. The one just outside our door.”

“There are too many rooms.”