“It’s fine,” Annabelle said. She tore the crust off one side of her grilled cheese and then winced when it burned her fingertips.

She wanted to say something else, too, to prove she wasn’t so babyish that they had to worry about corrupting her. Except she wasn’t completely sure what they were doing.

Connor drummed his fingers against the edge of the table. “Yeah. I guess Colette.”

“You guess?” Jordan said. “It’s Colette!” He sighed in disbelief. “She’s amazing.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but I don’t think you’re her type,” Ruby teased, poking Jordan’s arm with her plastic fork.

“Yeah, yeah. I saw her girlfriend waiting for her in the parking lot after practice yesterday, too,” Jordan said. “Doesn’t mean I can’t admire her from afar. Or from up close. Anywhere, really. I’m not particular.”

Annabelle was glad Connor just took a bite of his burger instead of gushing about how gorgeous and incredible Colette was.

Ruby turned to Annabelle, and the smile on her face was way too sweet. Cotton-candy-sticking-to-her-lips-and-turning-the-corners-of-her-mouth-blue sweet. “The game is who you’d rather, like . . . spend an afternoon alone with.”

“I understand the game,” Annabelle said.

Jordan hooted with laughter, making Annabelle drop the piece of grilled cheese crust she’d been holding.

“Yeah. Who you’d rather spend an afternoon aloooone with.” He wiggled his eyebrows so many times Annabelle thought they might wiggle right off his face. “All right, my turn. Abby Goldberg or Emily Aarons?”

Annabelle had never heard of them, so they must have been from Gray Island High.

Connor made a face. “Emily, I guess.”

“Seriously?” Jordan asked. “What, you want to help her tune that trombone?”

This time Connor was the one who erupted in laughter, and Annabelle’s stomach turned. Ruby laughed, too, even though there was no way she knew Emily, since she was a summer person. Then she went again, even though she’d just taken a turn.

“Okay, Annabelle. I have one for you. What’s Kayla’s little brother’s name? Jesse?”

All three of them looked at Annabelle.

“Jeremy, right?” Connor said.

“Jer-e-my!” Jordan sang. “Somebody’s blushing!”

“No, I’m not!” Annabelle said.

Which was silly. She was blushing—she could feel how warm her cheeks were. But it wasn’t because they’d mentioned Jeremy, exactly. It was the intensity of all three of them looking at her at once and the whole idea of her and Jeremy . . . like that.

“I was going to say Jeremy or that funny kid, Scotty Gorman,” Ruby said. “But I think we have our answer.”

Annabelle shook her head. “Jeremy’s one of my best friends. It’s not like that.”

Connor reached across the table and put his hand on Annabelle’s arm for a second. “Leave HB alone.”

But Ruby kept going. “You and little Green would be adorable!”

Adorable.

She sounded like she was talking about babies or puppies. Like she had to remind Connor and Jordan that Annabelle was so much younger than the rest of them.

“I wouldn’t choose either of them,” Annabelle said, but then she pictured Jeremy’s just-out-of-the-pool spiky hair and the ketchup in the corner of his mouth the other day, and she felt awful. “I mean, not for . . . uh . . .”