“It’s not like that,” I say, refusing to even acknowledge that shaken-up soda can feeling I get sometimes when I see Owen.

Mabel used to ask me all the time if I had a “crush” on someone. She always made it clear that she’d be cool with me liking anyone, regardless of gender, but I could never come up with a single name. I even considered making someone up because I knew she was disappointed that every time she asked, I came up blank.

Back then, the word crush felt as foreign and baffling as exoskeleton or deciduous—the types of words that showed up on spelling quizzes. Even though I could define it, I didn’t really understand it. Now that I finally do, I wish more than anything that I could talk to Mabel about it. She would know what to do about the fizzy feeling in my stomach. She would probably also know about the bands Owen likes. She would have good advice.

There should be a word for when you miss a person in the future. Not just missing memories of them, but missing memories you never got to have with them.

Mia must see something in my face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I close my locker. “I just can’t stay late today.”

“Well, we’ll be in the computer lab if you change your mind,” Mia finally says.

Her and Owen are staying after school to “study” for Quiz Bowl. Studying is basically doing a deep dive on fact websites. They’ll memorize as many random trivia facts as they can. I should join them, but I can’t. I have to find Quinn.

Which is something I never thought in a million years I would be thinking. It is also definitely not something I can tell Mia without being asked tons of questions that I don’t want to answer. Or rather, that I can’t answer because I don’t know how to.

So I’m not exactly lying to her. But I’m also not telling her the truth. The quasi-lie makes my stomach cramp. I detest lying and false information in all its forms.

“See you,” I say as we part ways, her heading into the computer lab and me heading—well, I don’t know where I’m heading. I walk by Quinn’s locker.

She’s not there.

I aimlessly stroll down the hallways. She’s nowhere to be found. I tilt my head back and sigh. She probably already walked home. Quinn has always been a walker because both of her parents work. We used to walk home together a lot, but I also got picked up by Grams, especially if it was a day when I had something after school.

I head down the sidewalk that winds away from our school toward the athletic fields. I tug on my backpack straps and practice what I’m going to say to Quinn when I eventually find her.

We can’t talk about your idea because we’re not friends anymore.

We can’t be friends anymore because of what happened.