I reach over and smooth down her curly hair. “And I would miss you.”

She nods, accepting my love for her so simply it hurts. “And Afton would miss me.”

Afton nods. “I would.”

“Although not as much as Ada,” Abby says, and neither of us argue the point.

“And Mom would miss you,” I add, because that, too, is something Normal-Ada would say. Because Normal-Ada would of course include Mom in our happy family.

“Mom would be sad, that’s true,” Abby says, and it’s wild to me that even at five years old, my sister seems to understand that there’s a difference. Between missing someone and being sad that they’re gone. Or maybe that’s my own messed-up thought and not Abby’s.

“I miss Poppy already.” Abby sighs and leans her head against the window as the palm trees and tropical foliage whiz past. “I wish he was going to see the volcano.”

Afton’s gaze catches mine. I look away.

“I know,” I murmur around the lump in my throat. “I miss him, too.”

The first people we see when we climb up onto the tour bus are the Wongs, minus Billy, who’s back at the conference center with Mom. Jenny Wong and her kids are occupying the first two seats on the left side of the aisle, and she’s leaned over tying one of Josie’s shoes as Afton, Abby, and I clamber up the steps. I’m usually happy to run into Jenny, because it means that Josie will also be there, so Abby will have somebody her own age to play with, i.e., less work for me. Plus, more often than not, Jenny offers to take care of Abby, too, and give me some time to myself.

But this time my stomach clenches, seeing Jenny, thinking that it’s possible—possible but not probable, I tell myself—that it was Billy I saw with Mom yesterday. Which still makes me want to throw up. So I try to slip us past her unnoticed, but then Abby of course sees them and yells, “Hi, Josie!” and Jenny looks up.

“Hi, Abby!” she greets my little sister warmly. Afton’s already scooted by her and headed straight for the back of the bus. Afton prefers the back. I like the front. Usually we compromise and sit somewhere in the middle.

Jenny turns to me. “Hello, Ada. We missed you last night at dinner. Are you feeling okay today?”

She says this like she’s concerned about me, but also like she’s a tad worried that a sick person might be about to hang out around her kids all day.

“I’m feeling much better,” I mumble. “It was something I ate. I’m okay now.”