“I don’t know, dear,” Mom said. “I don’t know that we’re actually cut off. We’ll just have to be diligent.”

D’Arcy finally showed up with a plate of melon and cottage cheese for Mom and a veggie omelet for me. It was mostly broccoli and Velveeta at the temperature of bathwater.

“But I don’t actually believe that your sense of constitutional crisis is where your mind has been this morning. Come on, spill.”

I took another drink of coffee, swished it around like mouthwash, and kept my eyes on my mom. She really was the most sympathetic, supportive person I knew. She deserved the truth.

Eventually.

“The homecoming dance is coming up, and no one has asked me,” I said.

Her face relaxed just like that. I’d delivered her a traditional mother’s problem. Ahhhh.

“Classes haven’t even started yet, so I’m not sure why you’re worried.”

“People are around. I’m a junior. I should know.”

“Why don’t you go with Jordan?”

“He has to ask me.”

“Well, ask him.”

“Mom,” I said, and then stuffed a big bite of omelet into my mouth.

“It’s the twenty-first century, Maggie. You’ve told me you don’t conform to antediluvian gender roles.”

“It’s a ‘boy’s choice’ dance,” I said through a full mouth.

“Bullshit,” she said. “I’m sorry. But, come on, no one designates a ‘boy’s choice’ dance. Almost every dance in history was a ‘boy’s choice’ dance.”

I couldn’t hide my smile at my mom’s cussing. I’d have to be more convincing.

“I just—what if he says no? We’ve been friends since kindergarten.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t worry.”

“Mom,” I said with a sigh, “you just don’t get it.” Now I actually was getting vexed about this. Why hadn’t Jordan asked me to the homecoming dance yet?

He was fun and smart, and as much as I hated to admit to being swayed by such qualities, he was getting hotter. He could have had his pick of girls at school, though I never saw him dating anyone. Maybe he didn’t like girls. He wouldn’t be the first hunky guy to let down the ladies in this respect.

But, no, he liked girls, I could tell. He liked me. He just needed to act already. Well, maybe sometime when he wasn’t being chased by a bear or concussed by teammates. This hadn’t been the most romantic stretch …

I’d always liked Jordan, but the nuclear disaster deepened my feelings. I had plenty of friends in the evacuation camp, and we hung out and had fun. I even went on a couple of dates with Jerry Eiger—he’d asked me to watch the Star Wars prequels with him on his tablet, for some reason—but nothing happened. (Jar Jar Binks didn’t exactly put me in the mood.) In the meantime, Jordan and I were communicating solely through the written word, sending each other emails that conveyed so much more than everyday conversations. These exchanges felt honest, meaningful, intimate. I couldn’t wait to be in the physical presence of this person who was opening his sweet soul to me.