Alexa had so many other things she wanted to say to Morgan: don’t grow up too fast, stay true to yourself, think for yourself and talk for yourself and don’t turn down dessert, and show your body if you want to but not if you don’t. “You know what I do if I find myself in a tricky situation?” she asked.

“What?” Morgan was all ears—well, and elbows and collarbone and ketchup-smeared face, but mostly ears.

“I ask myself what Peter would say to do. I find I really don’t go wrong if I do that.”

Morgan stared at the water for a moment, taking this in, and tears filled her eyes. One dropped onto the napkin in front of her, and then she nodded. “I like that,” she said. “I’m going to do that too.” After a beat she said, “You know who I do like?”

“Who?”

“That one who came to Canobie Lake with us. The one you were holding hands with on the street the other day.”

“Cam?”

“Yes. Cam.”

They ate and looked at the water. The sun shifted and Morgan started to squint.

“I like him too,” Alexa said at last.

“Maybe he should be your boyfriend.”

Morgan’s features had been changing steadily over the course of the summer and probably before that. There were new mature hollows in her cheekbones that offered a preview of what her face would look like when she was a teenager and then an adult. Her eyebrows, once they were professionally shaped, would be stunning (those came, frustratingly, from Peter; Alexa would have loved to have them too), and after Dr. Pavlo, the orthodontist who was responsible for Alexa’s smile, worked his magic on the space between her front teeth, Morgan’s smile too would be irresistible.

“Maybe. Or maybe nobody should.”

The rest of the meal they ate in companionable silence, and when Soccer Maya dropped the check, Alexa tipped extravagantly, just because she could.

55.

Rebecca

Brooke always sent actual paper invitations for her end-of-summer party, which Rebecca had to admit was classy. Most people believed that paper invitations deserved to go the way of the milk truck and earbuds with wires. Even so, when she opened the envelope her stomach clenched and she let out an involuntary Ugh.

Last year she had skipped the party altogether, and had been excused because she was still technically in mourning. This year, mourning would be a harder sell. But she didn’t want to go alone. She was tired of going places alone. She wanted to bring Daniel. At the same time, she didn’t want to bring Daniel.