“One time I was visiting Hallie while my parents were at work,” said Maren. “All of a sudden, her machines started beeping and the nurses rushed in and they called the doctors and made me go out in the hall. All I could think was that Hallie was going to die and my parents weren’t going to be there with her. And it somehow felt like my fault.”

They were both quiet for a while as Amos molded his cake into something resembling a fortress and Maren tapped through her recital routine under the table.

“Who did you get for homeroom?” he said finally.

“I didn’t look at the list,” said Maren. “I want to transfer somewhere else, but my mom won’t let me, so I’m ignoring September as long as I can.”

Amos ripped open a packet of sugar and sprinkled it around the edges of his fortress so that it looked like sand. “I told Curtis to stop saying all that stuff about you.”

“Well, he didn’t,” said Maren. “And it didn’t stop you from hanging out with him.”

Amos became very absorbed in raking the sugar sand with his fork. Maren slid her plate away. “Why are you friends with that kid? He’s probably not even nice to his dog.”

Amos shrugged guiltily. “His parents got divorced last year, and his dad moved out of state, too. We don’t talk about it much, but sometimes I feel like he’s the only person who really gets what it’s like.”

“Maybe I don’t get what it’s like, but I tried to be there for you, too,” said Maren.

“I know.” Amos sunk low in his chair. “But you had this, like, perfect family, and it was hard to be around sometimes.”

Maren probably wouldn’t have agreed that her family was perfect at the time, but she’d give anything to have it all back, to have the privilege of fighting with Hallie over bathrooms and socks.

“Curtis isn’t that bad when other people aren’t around,” said Amos. “That time in the playoffs when I couldn’t stop the last kick in the penalty shoot-out and we lost, he invited me over his house for pizza. I guess I thought I’d convince him to be nicer and we could all be friends. But then you flipped out and blocked my number and wouldn’t answer the door or my emails, and I was all alone and didn’t know what to do.” Amos set down his fork. “I tried, too, you know.”