She’d had her wallet out at the coffee shop when she was counting her change. She could see it now, sitting open on that table, a few coins in the change purse and her Gray Island Academy ID card peeking through the clear slot. She hadn’t picked it up before she left.

“Miss? You in line or not?” asked a man behind her.

“I can’t—I don’t—” Annabelle stammered.

“Sweetheart, you’re right in the way,” a woman said. “If you’re not going to Hyannis, you need to get out of the line.”

She backed away, crashing into the line divider and knocking the pole to the ground, where it landed with a clang that made her jump.

“Geez, watch it!” someone said.

She tried to pick it up with her good hand, but it was heavier than she’d realized. It fell back over and clanged against the ground again.

She was light-headed with hunger and all of these people were watching her as she walked over to an empty bench after she’d made this huge scene, but somehow she felt oddly calm.

Here she was, stuck at a giant bus station in Boston, with no way to get anything to eat and no way to get home. Right when she thought she couldn’t possibly have screwed everything up any worse.

She pulled out her phone. Jeremy was close by for his summer program, but it wasn’t like he would want to see her, and what could he do?

She could call Mom, but it would be hours before Mom could get all the way here, and Mom was going to be so, so upset. Mitch would know what to do, probably. He’d come up with a strategy. He was her best option.

Unless . . . Connor and his friends were coming for the concert, and when Mark had rattled off the names of people who were coming, he hadn’t said Caroline’s. Maybe they had an extra ticket still, even?

But no. Connor was with Caroline, and that whole fantasy about seeing him here at the station was just a ridiculous, delusional dream.

Annabelle took a deep breath and powered on her phone. She knew message after message would pop up from Mom, but she wasn’t going to read them. She was going to call Mitch and ask him what to do, and that was all.

Except then she couldn’t ignore all of the messages that flashed across the screen, because she saw Connor’s name.

How’s it going, HB? he’d written.

Three and a half hours ago. Today.

After the other night with Caroline, he still wanted to talk to her. And he was probably on his way to this very station where she was sitting right now.

She clicked on his number and dialed.

Connor picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

People were talking in the background, but Annabelle couldn’t make out what they were saying. Connor’s voice sounded soft but close, as if he were talking right into the phone with his hand covering his mouth.