She gasped, taking in the elderly man standing in the doorway. The same one she’d just spoken to a few moments ago.

Oh, my God.

She’d ended up right back where she’d started. As she backed away from the door, apologizing profusely, she took in the shuttered windows, the manicured lawn, the roses lining the perimeter of the yard. Peering back at her car, she envisioned Amelia in the front seat holding her phone, the voice of the GPS speaking in her palm.

There was almost no doubt in Whitney’s mind—this was where she’d left her.

2

EIGHT WEEKS
BEFORE DROP-OFF

THE HIGH SCHOOL parking lot was packed. Whitney followed the slow line of cars, weaving through rows of vehicles and students walking in large groups. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel with impatience. The million things she still needed to get done filled her mind. But Whitney was grateful to be able to pick Amelia up this afternoon. Lately, she’d been so busy with work she rarely was able to. She felt bad about how many days Amelia had to hitch a ride with a friend or take the bus.

Rounding the corner near the football field, Amelia’s group of friends stood in a huddle on the grass, heads bent together, a kaleidoscope of colored hair. Becca was talking animatedly, her hands moving in sync with her lips. Amelia wasn’t in the circle. When she appeared, walking out from behind a nearby building, Whitney pulled her car over to the pickup area. As Amelia passed by her friends, they glanced over but didn’t say anything. She kept her head down, eyes averted. Becca shot her a glare before returning her attention back to the other girls.

Could they be shunning her?

Amelia swung the passenger door open and plunked down with a loud sigh. She tossed her backpack down by her feet.

“What’s going on with you and Becca?” Whitney asked, pulling away from the pickup area and joining the slow line again.

Amelia shrugged, staring down at her hands. Her nails were painted black, chipped at the edges. Some of the skin was torn and red. “Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“I guess we’re just not really hanging out that much anymore.”

“Why? Did you get in a fight or something?”

“I don’t know.” She groaned, sinking lower in her seat.

“How can you not know? Haven’t you talked to her at all?”

“God, Mom, why can’t you just let it go? It’s not that big a deal.”

Amelia and Becca had been BFFs since the beginning of junior high. Becca practically lived at their house; she had become part of their family. Whitney had never known the girls to ignore each other.