“I’ve mostly just drawn acorns and pumpkins,” I mutter.

She taps her finger against the acorn, avoiding the big smudge. “But what beautiful acorns and pumpkins they are. You’re definitely going to come, right?”

“I’m—I’m—I’m—” I know the words I want to say, but I can’t get them out. That’s the worst part about The Freezing. The frustration of it. I wish my brain and my mouth would get it together.

“Hey,” Mrs. Euclid says gently. “Can you come with me to my office? I need help with something.”

I glance around at my classmates. To my relief, none of them are looking at me.

“It’s okay,” Mrs. Euclid says, like she knows what I’m thinking. “They’re all busy.”

I trail Mrs. Euclid back to her office. It’s a small room off the library and it’s anything but organized. I wonder if Cora has ever been inside here. She’d definitely freak out about the mess. But I kind of like it. All the books waiting to be cataloged, the multicolored Post-it Notes, and the coffee mugs holding various pencils and pens. The mess makes the room feel like a place where exciting things are happening. It makes the room feel alive.

Mrs. Euclid lifts a stack of books off her desk chair and motions for me to take a seat. I sit down and she perches on the desk, pushing back against a big pile of papers.

“So,” she says. “What’s going on?”

My eyes wander around the office. They land on a Star Wars poster. It’s attached to the wall with glittery blue thumbtacks. “Nothing’s going on.”

“But you don’t want to go to the fall festival.”

I shrink into my chair. “It’s not really my thing.”

“You were there last year.”

I look up in surprise. I didn’t really know Mrs. Euclid at this point last year. That was before it happened, before I started coming to the library to hide out. Before I had a reason to hide out.

She seems to register my surprise, so she expands on that thought, “You and Cora had matching costumes. They were so cute.”

“Yeah. I was mustard and she was ketchup.” Grams made the costumes for us. Cora had it in her head that she really wanted to be condiments for some reason. I can’t remember the reasoning now, which, to be honest, makes me feel a little bad.

“That’s right!” Mrs. Euclid claps her hands together. “So what gives?”

I give her a look. She can’t really be asking me that question.

“You—you—you know,” I say. I go back to staring at the Star Wars poster and trace the outline of Yoda in my head.

Mrs. Euclid takes a step closer to me. She kneels down so she’s close to eye level with me, but I still don’t look at her. “Quinn, if I’m off base, you should definitely feel free to ask me to stop talking, but does this have something to do with your brother?”

Hearing the word brother come out of her mouth makes me shiver. Mrs. Euclid and I have never once talked about Parker. “Uh, yeah,” I say stiffly.