Kira stabbed her fork in the cake. “I’m defusing this tension by saying, in no way to deflect from Muir’s amazing job, that I have been accepted to the University of Washington and I am going there in the fall instead of back to Southern California, and I am embarrassed because it is partly because I am too scared to leave home yet, so I am going to stay here and ferry in to school every day. The end.”

“Oh, Kira,” Francine said, rushing to get champagne glasses from the cupboard.

I hugged Kira, still in her chair and trying to eat cake.

“Let’s go smock shopping,” I begged. “Please can we get you a beret, and will you wear scarves all the time now?”

“UW is not the Sorbonne. I think there’s a strict jeans-and-T-shirt policy. And my personal anti-scarf agenda.”

“Kira, don’t be embarrassed,” Sean said. “I’m glad you’ll be here. I will, too.”

I turned to him. “You will?”

“I got my letter from UW. But I also got the Salishwood spot.”

“You people can’t drink yet, right? Gah, mother of the year, here…” Francine was frazzled with happiness. “Milk, we’ll have milk. This cake is giving me hyperglycemia.”

“Sean,” I said, “what the hell? This is the best day!”

Really letting myself admit that I care about people I liked may have been hard when my heart broke with theirs, but this part—getting to be overjoyed when they were—I could see how normal human emotional attachment could get addictive.

“You’re going to be a national park ranger. You are going to wear the uniform and live on a mountain! You. Guys.” I hadn’t had milk and cake in years. It felt like being five years old at a birthday party. Like everything was starting brand-new.

Kira went to Blackbird, and I walked Sean to the road.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I said. “About UW? About Salishwood?”

“Because I wanted…I was waiting to see.”

“See what?”

“What you were doing. Where you would be.”

I stopped walking. “But I don’t know where I’ll be.”

“You— Did we not just celebrate you getting an actual job at Salishwood? Won’t you be here?”

“I can’t live on that, I can’t stay here—maybe I can ferry in from Seattle for it, but I’ll need to get another job near where I’ll live. Maybe two more.”

He stood and just looked at me. “How?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have to know.”

“I don’t.”

“Seattle is more expensive to live than here. Why can’t you live here? Just stay.”

“But there aren’t jobs that pay enough or that have benefits here.”

“This is nuts. How are you going to—”

“I’ll figure it out. I will. I don’t want to think about it anymore right now; I’m too happy.”

“But—we graduate in, like, six weeks. You’ll be eighteen in three months. How can you not—”