And yes, Jeremy had come back to get Annabelle and helped her back to town. But it’s not like he’d been nice to her while he was doing it. And if he’d just kept his mouth shut, she’d get to go back to the high school team once her wrist and thumb healed, and she and Mia would be fine. Or maybe not fine, but not like this.

Annabelle listened again for the gentle swish of the water. Her wrist and thumb still hurt, but right now that was nothing compared to the way her muscles ached to be in the ocean or the pool—she didn’t care which. She wanted to dive under for ages before she had to come up for air. To block out everything except the powerful swish, pull, and kick of her own arms and legs. To be going to practice tomorrow, where she could wear her black suit and make sure Ruby, with her flowery-smelling hair and pink bikini, didn’t steal all of Connor’s attention. Make sure Elisa and Kayla didn’t decide to befriend Mia in her place.

The front door to her house creaked open. “Belle!” Mom called. “Come back inside, honey. You can’t stand out there without any sunscreen, and you have to finish that chapter before tutoring!”

A few days ago, she’d been the girl who just might help her team win a championship and start dating an almost-sophomore.

Now she was only Annabelle: useless and hurt and alone.

She glanced back at the mailbox and wished she could somehow squeeze herself into that envelope and get mailed off to Dad’s new house along with her letter.

Chapter 23

The next night, Annabelle sat up in bed with her summer reading book propped up on her knees and her still-throbbing hand resting on a pillow.

Elisa had texted her to say they’d missed her at practice and to see how her hand was doing. Kayla had, too, even though Annabelle had been afraid Kayla would be mad at her, since Jeremy was.

But then they’d both just written back with “I’m so sorry”s when she’d told them how bad the injury was, and those tiny flashes of conversation had made her feel worse, not better. They’d reminded her how bored and lonely she was . . . and they’d made her wish Connor would text, too.

She could text him, though.

He’d been the one to start all of their text conversations so far. Except the one Friday night when she’d texted to say she was okay. But that one basically didn’t count, since he probably would have texted if things hadn’t gotten so chaotic and his phone had had more battery.

A girl like Ruby wouldn’t think twice about texting Connor even when he hadn’t texted her first. Mia probably wouldn’t either, if she had his number.

Annabelle unlocked her phone and felt that zinging, about-to-race adrenaline as she found their last conversation and started to type.

Hey. What are you up to?