THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY, after a week of successfully avoiding Natan at Salishwood and unsuccessfully sneaking in any decent time with Sean there or at school, I raced off to the bus to get to Francine’s so I could spend the next four hours obsessing over Oh my God, we are going on a date.

Terry Johnson trotted out to watch me hose the mud off my walking shoes and place them neatly on the porch. He followed me to the kitchen, where Francine stood peeling potatoes at the sink. “Look what I found!” she said. On the table was a phone.

“You found this? Where?”

“At the phone store!” She wiped her hands on her apron and sat with me to unbox and figure it out. “So this is what they call Android, and I don’t know what that means, but you can text and call and there’s maps, too. And I like to take pictures with mine. You can press this thing and take a picture of yourself!” She leaned near to me, held the phone up, and took a picture of her smiling, me trying not to laugh.

“Francine,” I said. “I know how phones work; I just don’t want one.”

“Too bad. Look, I put my number in, Kira’s number, her parents’ number, Sean’s mom’s number—”

“I haven’t even met her!”

“You will; you’ll love her. Now, look, this is what’s called an app….”

“Francine.” She put the phone down. “Have I been bad at contacting you? Have I been late?”

“Of course not,” she sighed. “This is for me. And you. I get a stipend from the state every month, you know that. It’s for your care and necessities, and I’m deeming a phone a necessity. I need to know where you are. I need to be able to get to you if you need help, and Joellen does, too.”

“Yes, but—”

“And don’t you want to talk to your friends?” She slid the phone to me.

“I can’t have a monthly bill and a permanent number. I’ll get all that someday, but being with you is temporary. I’m nearly out—I need to save the money I’ve got. Please.”

“The stipend is your money. Your allowance comes from it. All of it belongs to you. Your job is going to school, the state of Washington can pay for the phone.”

“Yes, for now, then in a few months I age out and I’m stuck with a bill before I have a job that can afford it; I’ll miss the payments and ruin my credit.”

She looked at me so sadly. “Listen,” she said. “Listen to me now. This thing is in my name. I won’t let your credit be touched.”