“No,” said Alexa tightly. “No, I did not get in a fight with Tyler. Tyler isn’t even here. He’s still in Michigan.”

She sat on the beach for forty minutes after her shift, long enough to add a light golden topcoat to her tan without going too far.

Alexa simmered and simmered. She made and posted one video, about market orders and stop-loss orders, which she had planned on doing separately but then realized she could easily combine into two. She reorganized her closet and her bathroom drawers. In a fit of do-goodness, she took Bernice down to the boardwalk, to see the tall ship (Bernice loved boats).

Finally, when she could stand the terrible feeling no longer, Alexa got in her Jeep and made the short trip to Market Basket.

Alexa generally tried to stay away from Market Basket because you couldn’t get down an aisle without seeing someone you knew. Sure enough, near the yogurt she ran into her eighth-grade English teacher, Mrs. Sanchez, who never failed to remember and mention Alexa’s “cogent” essay on To Kill a Mockingbird. (Topic: Discuss the concept of fear in the novel.)

“It’s so nice to see you, Alexa!” Mrs. Sanchez gushed. And then, right on cue, “You know, I still use your Mockingbird essay as an example. Every year, I pull that thing out, and I read the whole thing out loud, and I try to explain to my students that it’s a close reading of the text that really makes for a stellar piece of work.” She beamed for an uncomfortably long time and then said, “Please don’t tell me you graduated. Is time going by that fast?”

“I did,” said Alexa. “It is.”

“Where are you headed next year?”

“Um,” said Alexa. “I’m not sure.” She was scanning the aisles for Cam. She was pretty sure he worked checkout, but then again she could imagine him cheerfully restocking the salsa and answering customers’ questions about where to find the Bob’s Red Mill flour. “Probably Colby.”

“How wonderful! And I hope you’re going to put those fabulous writing skills to use,” said Mrs. Sanchez. Alexa was pretty sure that when she moved to Los Angeles and got natural highlights in her hair from the sun and dated surfers and actors, she would not be using the skills that allowed her to delve into Jean Louise Finch’s young psyche, but she didn’t want to crush Mrs. Sanchez completely. Mrs. Sanchez, after all, seemed to be in the very tiny camp of Alexa fans.

“I might go more in a—financy direction,” said Alexa. “I’ve become pretty interested in the stock market.” Before she could register Mrs. Sanchez’s disappointment, both in her future and in her use of the made-up word “financy,” Alexa said her good-byes.