“Did you come here just to do that?” I asked.

“I was going to grab some Sour Patch Kids at Coontail’s,” she said. “But the line was out the door. All of these people are here for the eclipse tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” I said awkwardly. We stood there for a minute in total silence. I kept waiting for her to hop on her bike and go, but she didn’t.

“Well,” I finally said, “you probably have plans for the day. With Lex or something.”

She nodded. “We were going to go out in her boat with her parents.”

“Oh.”

“Her mom’s been teaching me some Japanese this summer. It’s been kind of fun.”

“Cool.” Thanks for the invite.

I turned to leave, but she stopped me.

“Abby. I—this is stupid. This whole summer of not talking was stupid,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. Lex’s mom and my mom said that you needed a break maybe, because of your sister being sick. That we should give you some space. Lex thought so, too. I think she got freaked out at Memorial Day. But I wasn’t scared. I know Blair is just going through it. They talked to us about it in health class, remember?”

“Yeah.” Our gym teacher, Mr. Fergus, taught health. He droned on about eating disorders for like ten minutes one day before reminding us of the dangers of obesity and heart disease. It wasn’t exactly emphasized.

“I’m sorry. I should have called you. I don’t want you to think we’re not friends anymore.” She bit her lip. “I mean, school starts in two weeks. And it’s just us on the bus for so long. We’re still friends, right?”

I could have said no. What kind of friend just ditches you for the whole summer? What kind of friend ignores you when you need her most?

But.

What kind of sister just ditches you for the whole summer? What kind of sister was I, ignoring Blair when she needed me? I wasn’t being mean. I was scared. I was afraid things couldn’t go back to the way they were. Sophie probably felt the same way.

“Yeah,” I said. “Of course we’re still friends. But thanks for saying sorry.”

She looked relieved. “Want to come over on Sunday? If it’s nice out we can do the paddleboards or something. All of the tourists will be on their way home.”

I loved Sophie’s house. Her mom always made the best snacks, and she had a big dog named Rufus that loved jumping in the lake. I grinned.

“I’ll call you Sunday,” I said.

As Sophie got on her bike and left, I felt that feeling wash over me again. Hope: that I still had friends. That I could get out of this time capsule mess. That Blair really could get better.

Stop it, a piece of me said. But another piece, a louder one, said, Keep going. Keep going. Keep going.

That night, as Jade drove off to the movie theater and Mom and Dad ran around making sure all the tourists were ready for tomorrow, I sat in bed and tried to write Blair a letter. I could write Captain Moonbeard into a thousand quests, but this seemed impossible.