It’s the first time I’ve really let myself think what could keep me here. A miracle. Maybe Aunt Sarah won’t like Arizona. Our house has only had a few showings—it’s small and the bathroom still has old pink tiles everywhere, and there’s almost no backyard, so maybe it won’t sell. Maybe she’ll hate her job. The last time I talked to her, she sounded more stressed than usual. Mom said that in her own time in Arizona people weren’t as friendly there. I didn’t think much of it, because Mom is either in love with someplace or thinks it’s the seventh circle of hell. There’s no in-between. But maybe she’s right, maybe Aunt Sarah’s not just stressed, maybe she’s lonely. And that brings up a little twinge of guilt in me, too. Can I just ditch Aunt Sarah in a new state and stay here?

I’m sitting in the canoe, and I can’t even remember walking away from the building or getting in. But now I’m paddling. I’ve gotten better, thanks to Aiden. He doesn’t tell me You don’t have to paddle if you don’t want nearly as often as when I started. I thought he was just being nice then, but now I know it was because I was slowing us down, dragging my paddle like a limp noodle along the canoe. Tonight we’re headed back to our beach and we’re all camping out. I’m a little nervous about staying in a tent with Aiden, but we’re also going to be tent-to-tent with Ellis and Jaz—who are very much not a couple—so I think it’s probably not going to turn into some wild party out in the woods. I catch a glimpse of the blue cooler up ahead. Hopefully. As long as things don’t get out of hand with the cooler full of beer that Ellis loaded into his canoe. I haven’t drank since Emma got me tipsy on two glasses of champagne at her cousin’s wedding last summer.

By the time we get to the beach the sun is setting, and as we walk off of the sand and into the trees behind it the orange of the sky seeps in through the cracks and washes everything in sepia.

Aiden puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s set up the tent before it gets dark?”

I nod, and follow him toward an open patch of ground where the stubby grass spreads out into a wide half-circle before bleeding into sandy patches along the tree line.

Aiden points toward the flattest patch, almost entirely covered in grass. “Here.”