“No, I wanted to ask if she’s hiring somewhere else.” She brushed him off, her voice oozing with sarcasm. “Yes. At her hotel.”

“Why do you need a job, anyway?” I asked.

“Mom and Dad want me to find something paid to do for the, uh, rest of summer.”

I perked up at this information. So far, I knew that Aidy had some sort of conflict with our parents. Now, a requirement to find another job before she went back to school. I bookmarked the knowledge, promising to return to it when I had more time.

“Why didn’t you ask them about it when we were at the memorial?” Harrison asked. “We were talking about their work before Olivia…gave her speech.” Without meaning to, he cut the conversation off at the jugular. He must’ve forgotten I was there until it was too late, and he had to course correct.

I wondered what he would’ve said if I wasn’t around.

Before Olivia…caused a scene? Before Olivia…ruined everything?

Swollen with all the words I kept inside, a sound kind of like eh snuck out of my mouth.

Ruby laughed. Her quick clip of amusement read like an admission of the awkwardness that consumed all of us.

“Hey,” Harrison said. His tone was strange and soft.

I turned around to find Aidy crying. She caught my gaze then walked off in the direction of the bowl. Harrison started to follow. “Don’t,” she warned him, the blow as heavy and blunt as a hammer.

I knew my cue.

I always did.

I followed her. She stopped when she reached the sewage tunnel. It looked grosser in the daytime. Especially the dampness in the middle—a dark pool of mysterious liquid with no pleasant explanation for its presence.

“You’ve got to stop doing this,” she told me as she sat on the edge of the tunnel entrance, careful to avoid the suspicious wetness.

“What do you mean?” I asked, playing innocent.

“Hurting people then acting like nothing’s wrong.”

Here, conversation built momentum easily.

I said, “I never told you I’d stop talking to Nick,” which made Aidy toss her hands up and sigh out, “Forgive me for hoping Ruby knocked some sense into you.”

She knew it was a ludicrous statement, so I called her out on it with a “Why does it bother you so much anyway? It’s not your life.” It’s one of the worst points to argue, because it discredits people for caring, but I was working on impulse, and didn’t have time to craft a response with more care.

Aidy knew it wasn’t my best work, so she got smarter with a “You act like you’re the only one who notices things.”

I gave that my most incredulous “What does that mean?” response.