She was talking to Joe from the hardware store. What are your plans for next year? That stupid question, over and over and over again, reminding us all that the answer was a big fat question mark—and not the Joffrey. Or college. Or much of anything.

Blair just kind of shrugged, looking bored. “Not sure yet. I have a ballet competition this summer . . .”

“I heard about that,” said Joe. “I’m sure you’ll do great.” I wished some of his hopefulness would wear off on the rest of us.

“We’ll see,” said Blair.

“You’ll figure it out,” replied Joe, patting her shoulder. “Don’t you worry.”

She flinched when his hand met her shoulder.

“I’m not worried.” But her voice was high and tight, as if she was trying not to cry.

A girl from her old high school walked by, too. Jessica-Now-Jess, Blair called her, since she’d decided to reinvent herself by dropping the second half of her name and dyeing her hair blue. Like you could make a town the size of ours think you were a whole new person with a box of dye from Coontail’s and a new nickname. The two of them had been . . . lab partners? English project partners? Something or other, before Blair had opted for homeschool so she could focus on ballet.

“Blair. Omigod, it’s been forever.” Jessica-Now-Jess threw her arms around my sister as if they were the best of friends. Blair didn’t look happy about it.

“Hey.”

“Hey. I heard about Julliard—”

“Joffrey,” Blair corrected her with a tight smile.

“Yeah. That tryout for the ballet school? That’s so awful.”

Lex whispered something to Sophie, and my face got hot.

“Yeah, that’s her,” I finally answered Sophie, looking away. “Come on.” I tried to pull my friends forward.

“Wait, I needed sunscreen,” said Sophie. “Sorry. I’m so flipping pale right now, I’ll be like a tomato in an hour. Curse of the redhead. Don’t leave without me.” She ducked back inside, leaving Lex and me to watch the train wreck unfold.

Jessica-Now-Jess was going on about how she was so sorry about the Joffrey Incident. She reached over and grabbed her elbow, which Blair yanked back.

“You don’t need this sweatshirt. Omigod. It’s a million degrees out here.” She giggled. “All that time in dance practice? You could probably use some sun.”

“I’m cold,” said Blair, getting agitated. I wanted to step in and whisk her away from this obnoxious girl. We’d all gotten good at managing Blair; avoiding certain topics and not commenting on her bizarre fashion choices. There were meanings under meanings, reasons under reasons, a sweatshirt hiding sharp elbows and keeping warm a girl whose body couldn’t even regulate its own temperature. Jessica-Now-Jess needed to move along.

“Whatever you say,” she said, fanning herself dramatically.

Thankfully, right as Lex glanced back into the store to see if Sophie had finished paying for her Banana Boat, Jessica-Now-Jess turned to leave, waving goodbye and shouting “I’ll text you,” which, hopefully, she wouldn’t. Blair looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. She should have just stayed home.