So basically, Blair, after costing a billion dollars to do ballet, was now costing a billion dollars to not do ballet. And that meant fewer trips to the Ice Shanty, no movies unless Jade could give us coupons, and the Cheerios that aren’t really Cheerios.

So when Mom asked if I wanted to do our Target trip the next day, I was pretty excited. The nearest Target was close to two hours away, in Washport. We could have gone to the Walmart in Waukegan or ordered stuff online, but we only went to Target—or Tarjay, as my mom called it—once a year. Even Jade came. It was a big deal; we could get pretzel bites and Icees from the café and buy basically any school supplies we wanted, plus some new clothes. My jeans from last year were too short, and I was already pretty high on the Dork-O-Meter: I didn’t need high-water jeans to seal my fate. I could see on Instagram that everyone was wearing cool sneakers instead of flats, which everyone had worn last year. I liked back-to-school shopping, which made me think that I belonged on the Dork-O-Meter after all. But that fresh-notebook smell: I was helpless. Give me some new #2 pencils and I was in heaven.

I was surprised when Jade didn’t even complain about going, since almost every second of her summer that she wasn’t working had been spent with her friends. Jade wouldn’t invite me within thirty feet of her coven (Mr. Linn taught us that a coven meant a group of witches, something I found pretty accurate), but since it was thunderstorming out, I guess she didn’t mind spending most of her day in a car with Mom and me. Dad stayed behind to check some new eclipse viewers into their cabins.

When you go to Target all the time, you can probably just pop in, grab what you want, and pop out. But we had a routine. A Target plan, if you will. Always start in cosmetics, make your way to movies and music, check out the seasonal area, where the school supplies currently were, and then head over into the clothing department before swinging down the home decor aisle. It was an art form.

“We need to see if they have this new series I’m reading,” I said. “Harriet said the library couldn’t order the new one because she was already over her book limit. I’ll spend my own money on it.”

Mom sighed. “That library. You need to prepare yourself, Abigail. I’m not sure how much longer it’s going to be around.”

“Why?” asked Jade, picking up a glittery black nail polish that Mom grabbed out of her hands and put back on the shelf.

Nail polish brought a million flashes of Blair to my mind. She’d use clear nail polish to fix runs in her tights. It was also the only color Aleksander allowed on her fingers. She went through a bottle a week.

“Jade Marie, I love you, but black nails?” Mom asked, pulling me out of my memory and back down to earth. “Don’t turn into one of those emo kids on me. I have enough to deal with.” Turning back to me, she continued, “The town’s funding has been hit hard. The library isn’t a big tourist attraction.”