“We didn’t have a lot of money. We were, uh, just camping out by the lake when the cops found out I wasn’t in school.”

“You camped out every night and didn’t have to go to school?” He stops picking at his nails. “Epic.”

“Uh, yeah. Except they decided it would be better if I lived with my aunt and uncle for a while.” For a while, I think. Whatever that means. It’s like when grown-ups say we’ll talk about it later or we’ll be there soon. It’s an answer, but it’s not. Maybe it’s better Mom doesn’t call, better than giving me nonanswers.

“At least it sounds like your mom was around.”

I don’t say anything. Was around. I think of this house. The four-car garage. The pool. The movie theater. And then I think of Well’s dad, standing in the kitchen in his alligator boots in front of his son, but staring at his phone. I guess there are different kinds of neglect.

“What does your dad do, anyway?” I ask.

“He’s a music producer,” Well says, sounding both bored and disappointed.

I shiver, remembering Howie and the meeting we never had. Mom would jump at the chance to meet Well’s dad. Good thing he’s always gone, because I will not ever let him hear me sing.

We sit for a while, not talking. When the lights from Dan’s Jeep swing around the circular drive, Well stands and holds out a hand to me, but I’m already halfway up and he lets it fall.

“I guess you can’t pick family, huh?” he says, and goes inside without waving good-bye.

Ginger is in my bedroom when I get home. Which is weird. She’s just sitting on the bed in her fuzzy robe and slippers.

“How was movie night?” she asks. Her voice is high, like it was the first night they picked me up from the airport.

“Okay, I guess. We didn’t finish the movie.”

“Oh, well, maybe next time?”

I nod. She looks strange, fidgety. She keeps tugging at the tie on her robe. I’m still thinking about Well, and I just want to be alone.

“Um, I guess I’m going to get ready for bed.” I start to walk into the bathroom, thinking maybe she’ll take the hint and go, but she calls after me.

“Lou, wait. Come sit down.” She pats the bed beside her. I walk over to the reading chair instead.

“Lou, I found your earbuds in the laundry room, and I was just putting them away—” She leans over, and, before she can even open the top drawer of the nightstand, my face begins to burn. Shame crawls up my spine, like a spider. I tuck myself farther back in the chair.