WEDNESDAY ROLLS AROUND, AND EVEN though it’s almost officially fall, the weather is still a swampy eighty degrees. That doesn’t stop most freshmen from wearing cozy sweaters and riding boots—as if they aren’t a walking sweatbox.

I feel proud about one thing in particular, though. After a long conversation with Lin, she decided to give Breck a chance on the decathlon team.

“If he misses even one practice or does anything to ruin our chance at state,” she told me in the parking lot before school, “I will bake him a cake filled with laxatives.”

I let Breck know his bowels are on the line, but he swears his basketball schedule won’t conflict.

I end up giving Nonnie back her Queen CD later that evening. She’s sitting at the kitchen table reading the comics from Sunday’s paper. Her hair is wrapped in giant curlers and she’s wearing an embroidered gown with bright-red flowers. I know Freddie Mercury is her savior, but he’s not mine.

With Saylor now working night shifts at 7-Eleven, Nonnie volunteering at the shelter, and my dad working late, our schedules aren’t aligned anymore—which means I haven’t been subjected to more uncomfortable dinners where everyone compliments Peach’s cooking and pretends like this entire situation is completely normal.

Peach continues to dish out kindness like she dishes out her from-scratch casseroles. She also continues to make my lunch, wash everyone’s laundry, and keep the kitchen tidy. While I appreciate all she does, I can’t help but wish she’d focus more on getting her own life back on track and not putting it off by staying here. Every day that they stay here is a risk. Even though I haven’t had another phone call from Margaret, there’s still a paranoid part of me that thinks she’ll somehow find out.

Then there’s the fact that Peach continues to spend so much time with my dad. It sends me into a fit of blind anger. Sometimes they go out front and sit on the porch swing and, I don’t know, talk for like… hours. I can hear them laughing from my room. He looks happier than he has in years.

Which makes it hard for me to manipulate everyone into leaving.

The only upside to the week is when Peach goes to buy groceries. My dad joins me on the couch and we watch the latest episode of Crime Boss. He even makes us a plate of what he called his homemade nachos, which are just chips sprinkled with shredded cheese that he pops in the microwave for a minute. It’s nothing fancy, but it doesn’t need to be. We take turns trying to guess the murderer and for the first time in a while, it feels like it’s only the two of us.

Aunt June calls me later that evening when I’m in my room.

“Hey, sweets,” she says when I answer. “I just wanted to check in. How are you?”

I consider telling her about the recoverees living here. I know my dad hasn’t said anything to June because she would have already brought it up. It seems like something he would have mentioned to her, but I don’t know. Maybe he thinks she’ll get the wrong idea.

“Good,” I tell her. “I miss you. And those mini pretzel bagels you used to get from that coffee shop.”

She laughs. “Lord knows I’ve eaten enough of those for five lifetimes.” She clears her throat, and her voice suddenly grows serious. “Listen, doll, I was wondering how your dad is doing? Honestly?”

I grip the phone tighter. I could tell her the truth. She could maybe figure out a way to get these people out of here so that things can go back to normal.

But what if it doesn’t happen, and I’m sent back to Portland?

“He’s good,” I say. “Honest.”

I hear her exhale. “Well, if you need anything—”

“I know. Thank you.”

And just like that, I’m keeping my father’s secrets all over again.

On Thursday, I’m stressing over the fact that Algebra II is still kicking my ass. I haven’t been called up for any more Radical Races, but I’m getting C’s and D’s on most of my homework assignments. Maybe I’ll find Alex’s sister in the library next week, even though going in for tutoring makes me feel more insecure than I already am.

Alex received my package of Starburst, though. Yesterday he made a production of stealthily eating them in class, grinning at me like he knew I was the mysterious candy bearer. When I caught his eye and grinned back, he dropped a few in the palm of my hand, along with an empty wrapper.

I won’t say it’s the best, but it’s close.

I use another wrapper to write back.

You have questionable taste.

After he reads it, he gives me a playful glare, tossing a mango square at my head.

“Mr. Ramos!” Mrs. Donaldson scolds. “If you know this material well enough to become distracted, then perhaps you can lead the class in an example?”

I give Alex a look of sympathy. The last thing we both need is another detention from this class. But before Alex slides out of his seat, he glances over at me.

Worth it, he mouths.

I’m about to walk into art history when Lin pulls me aside.

“Raegan’s mad at us,” she says.

My good mood instantly deflates. I really don’t need another friend mad at me right now.

“What? Why?”

Lin rolls her eyes. “Because we’re going to Breck’s party this weekend and she’s not.”

I throw my hands up. “So why doesn’t she just come?”

“Because she’s President of Leadership Council and doesn’t want to”—Lin uses air quotes—“‘tarnish her reputation.’”

I sigh. At least it’s not my fault. I’m actually looking forward to his party. For one, it’ll give me the opportunity to drop the sympathy stigma in front of most of our classmates and show them that my life is totally normal. It’ll also give me the opportunity to hang out with my friends as a group and work on the goals of my twelve steps. But it makes it hard to focus on being a better friend to Raegan when she’s upset that we’re going in the first place.

When school lets out later that day, I go to my locker and grab the change of clothes I packed. There’s no way I’m picking up trash in jeans, especially in this insufferable heat. Thankfully, Raegan scheduled our practice on the field at five thirty—going over and over our routine in the afternoon sun is never something I look forward to the day before a game.

Alex walks up just as I’m closing my locker. He smiles at me and like a reflex, I find myself smiling back.

“Are you still going to the Earth Club cleanup?” I ask.

“Yeah, for sure.” He opens his locker. “Want a ride? Carpooling seems like an approved Earth Club activity.”

I shrug. Why not?

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot,” I tell him, holding up my change of clothes.

“Sounds good.”

I head into the girls’ bathroom and lock myself in a stall. I send a quick text to Lin and tell her I’ll be there in a few, and then I pull on an old, faded tank top and my black dance shorts. I throw my hair up into a ponytail, grab my bag, and walk outside.

Alex is sitting in his truck, windows down. As I walk closer, I hear jazz blaring from his speakers.

I open the passenger door and climb in.

“Interesting music choice. Are you sixteen going on sixty?” I joke, then want to kick myself. Way to kick things off by making them awkward.

Alex jabs a finger at the dial, but I notice his face flush. “Ha ha. No. This thing’s stuck.”

I try and keep my voice even, playing it off. “To a jazz station? That’s unfortunate.”

“Tell me about it.” He puts the truck in drive. “But it’s made me well-versed in jazz musicians. You know, in case I’m ever on Jeopardy!”

I laugh and just like that, the tension breaks.

His Chevy is just as worn on the inside as it is on the outside. There’s a large crack running down his rearview mirror and chunks of leather are peeling away from his seats. The vents don’t blow any air, which is probably why the windows are rolled down, but he taps his hands on the wheel like it’s a brand-new BMW.

I notice he’s not wearing his infamous double shirts, but a plain white tee paired with black soccer shorts. Pieces of his dark curls fall over his eyebrows when he glances at me. I quickly look away, flustered. I don’t want him to think I’ve been, like, gawking at him.

This would be an ideal time to bring up his text.

i know my timing is off…

And yet, I can’t bring myself to start that conversation. Not when we’ve been getting along so well as friends. Besides, it’s Jay who I want to reconnect with. Even though he’s adopted a slightly full-of-himself attitude, he’s still the same Jay from freshman year. A person can’t change that much.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

“Hey, so,” I begin, “wasn’t today supposed to be your last day of detention?”

“Yeah, but it turns out Mrs. Donaldson loves Lin. She was a star student in her geometry class last year,” he explains. “When I told her only five people signed up for the Earth Club cleanup and that Lin was bummed about it, she gave in and let me go do this instead.” He picks up a piece of paper from his console. “All Lin has to do is sign this to tell her I was there. For proof.”

I give a playful gasp. “You used my best friend as an excuse.”

“I didn’t, I swear.” He glances at me again. “I told you I was going to do this anyway. Even before detention. Besides, I need volunteer hours.”

“For what?”

“College apps. I figure I better start now so I’m not attempting to cram it all in my senior year.”

That’s a good point. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I’ve barely thought about college, let alone the SATs.

“Do you know where you want to go?”

Alex grows quiet for a moment. “I think I might stay fairly close. UT Austin or Rice, maybe the University of Oklahoma.” I notice the lack of excitement in his voice. “They have a good film program.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Want to try that once more, with feeling?”

Alex meets my gaze for a moment. He looks surprised that I’ve called him out, but what he doesn’t realize is that I am the queen of lackluster replies. I perfected my technique in Portland when I told my classmates I transferred due to my mom’s job. It was easier than explaining the truth. Besides, I’ve known Alex long enough to know that he’s wanted to attend film school in southern California since forever.

“It’s complicated,” is all he says.

I know that feeling well enough, so I don’t push him.

Alex pulls into the parking lot across from the lake. We don’t say anything as we get out and head toward Lin’s designated picnic table. Earth Club’s President, Holly Macintyre, is pulling on a pair of plastic gloves as Lin opens a box of trash bags.

Aside from the four of us, there’s Colton. Lin had to bribe him by buying him three slices of pizza at lunch, but he’s here. Well, physically here anyway. He’s wearing his headphones, no doubt daydreaming of playing stadium tours.

“Hey!” Lin says when she spots us. She takes a few steps away from Holly and whispers, “This turnout is awful. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her as she hands us a pair of gloves. “The next one will be better.”

She gives us an unsure smile.

Holly divides us into two groups. Alex and I will take the west side of the lake, and they’ll take the east. Lin reminds us to stay hydrated, gesturing to one of the water canisters they’ve borrowed from the football team. Then we split up.

There isn’t much trash on the picnic side of the park, so we wander to a secluded area of trees. That’s when we stumble upon an array of smashed beer cans, stained napkins, and forgotten tubes of ChapStick.

The west side of Winsor Lake is where the seniors come to party. They have to wander pretty far into the woods to avoid gaining attention from the cops with all the noise and music. Whitney used to say she couldn’t wait until we were seniors so we could party here, but I don’t see the fun in standing around in the middle of the forest watching everyone else get trashed. It’s not that I’m against everyone having a good time. I mean, I’ve tried my fair share of cheap beer and spiked lemonade. I’m just not exactly comfortable watching other people get wasted—probably because I’ve watched my dad do the same thing too many times.

Alex takes in the stretch of discarded beer cans. “I never understood why Marlina loved coming here.”

I glance up at him, surprised. It’s as if he read my mind.

“Right?” I add. “Why can’t it be cool to keep hanging out at Sonic or something?”

“Probably because you can’t have sex in the back of your car at Sonic.”

“Valid point.”

I forgot that this place is also an STD landmine. As we toss away more crumpled aluminum and loose beer caps, I find myself wondering how far he went with Lacey. Heat fills my face. I shouldn’t care. That was freshman year, which feels like forever ago.

Jay and I did everything but. I always pictured him as my first. If I’m being honest, maybe that’s another reason why it’s so hard to see him with Whitney. But is this the new Jay—the one who brags about girls bringing him beer at parties and who flirts a little too openly and obviously despite having a girlfriend—someone I still want?

“So,” I say after a minute, searching for a new topic. “Ana…”

“Alex,” he corrects.

I shoot him a playful stare. “Ana. Your sister?”

“I doubt she parties out here, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Alex discards an empty chip bag. “She knows our mom would wring her neck if she came home drunk.”

“No, that’s not it,” I say. “I was hoping to visit her.”

Alex’s thick brows furrow in confusion.

“In the library. For tutoring,” I clarify.

“Oh, for sure. I’ll let her know you plan on stopping by.”

Relief eases inside my chest. “I feel like I’m drowning in that class.”

“She can help. Like I said, she’s the only reason I’m able to understand my homework.”

I appreciate that he’s not making fun of me. “I sort of let my grades slide when I was in Portland. I can’t afford to do that this year. Not if I want to go to a decent college.”

This captures Alex’s attention. “Where are you thinking of going?”

I toss another empty can in my bag. The truth is… I’m not sure. Ever since I’ve been back, all I can think about is attempting to fix this odd situation. I know I can apply wherever I want, but there’s a tiny, insecure part of my brain that wonders if I should go away to college. What’s my dad going to do? And what if he relapses and I’m not there to help this time?

“I don’t know. Things at home are… kind of weird.”

Whoa. Where did that come from? I’ve already admitted this to Lin, but she’s one of my best friends. Maybe it’s because of the way he’s looking at me. His eyes aren’t full of the sorry sympathy I was used to receiving from people. I can tell I have his full attention and it feels, I don’t know… nice?

When I don’t say anything else, he goes, “This probably doesn’t help, but my home life has been weird, too. It was just Marlina, Ana, and me last year, but then Marlina left for college and my two little cousins from Mexico moved in.” He tosses an empty cigarette carton in his bag. “One is eight and the other is five. They just started at Cedarville Elementary, but they’re really struggling with English.”

I thought moving to Portland was a huge change. I can’t even imagine moving to an entirely new country where I don’t even speak the language.

“That must be hard.”

“Tell me about it.” Alex scoops up another crushed beer can. “I’m used to being the youngest, so having two little kids in the house is kind of nuts. There isn’t much room for them. Emilio—that’s my five-year-old cousin—has to share a room with me. And he wakes up a lot crying for his mama. My mom feels bad because sometimes it’ll happen a few times a night, and then there are some mornings where I help her out with the restaurant…” He glances over at me. “Sorry. I’m talking a lot.”

“No.” I don’t want to discourage him, but it does explain why he’s looked run-down in class most days. “Why are your cousins here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Their dad needed surgery, and my aunt couldn’t properly take care of both him and the kids. So my mom said they could spend a school year here.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“It is, especially since she already takes care of us. It’s why I don’t mind waking up early to help her out with the restaurant.” Alex wipes his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. “They’re in ESL classes, but I’ve also been giving them extra English lessons every night. Emilio is picking it up faster than Jose, but they’re both making good progress.”

I catch myself smiling. This is the Alex I’ve always known, the guy who’d do anything for family even when he didn’t have to. It’s nice that he hasn’t changed.

I glance back down to the mess before us, then I take a deep breath. “It’s been weird being home, to be honest. My dad is like… this completely different person. But I don’t know. I know he’s really trying. For me. And for himself. But things are just—they’re not the same.”

Shame finds its way to the pit of my stomach. I haven’t even told Lin that much about my dad, so why is it so easy to confide in Alex?

I look up to find him staring at me. “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “You didn’t deserve that.”

I used to hate it when people would tell me that they were sorry about what happened. It wasn’t their fault my dad spiraled. But it was something people said because they didn’t know what else to say. Somehow it feels different coming from Alex. It’s sincere, not like he’s throwing words into the wind.

It almost makes me want to tell him about my overcrowded house. About Peach and Saylor and Nonnie and all the changes that I’ve had to experience in the last few weeks. I so badly want someone to agree that it’s a messed-up situation. For a second, I almost tell him.

But I don’t.

Because, well, what about my twelve steps? I’ve been doing so well, especially with things that aren’t on the list. I’ve been invited to an actual social event this weekend—even if it is a party thrown by Breck. Things are slowly beginning to come together like they were before. That’s all I really want. To be close again with all my friends and not worry about coming home to my dad binging.

If I tell Alex the truth about the recoverees, there’s always a risk of it somehow getting back to Margaret. It happened at the intersection incident when I told Lin, who told Jay, who told Jay’s mom, who then told Margaret. And while I know that was a dire situation, I still can’t risk her thinking that my dad letting the recoverees live with us is unusual behavior. I know it’s not. He hasn’t even been near alcohol, but still… if she somehow found out, I don’t think she would hesitate shipping me back to Portland with Aunt June until my home life became more stable.

I trust Alex. I do. But I can’t take that chance.

Alex grabs something from the ground. “Did you lose something?”

He’s holding up a sock. It’s filthy, but it’s also patterned in tiny pineapples.

I feel my mouth curl into a grin. “You remember.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Alex says. “You wore that pineapple scrunchie every day of fourth grade—”

“Not every day!”

He shoots me an incredulous look. “And on your birthday, you’d bring in pineapple cupcakes with cream cheese frosting that your Grams made.”

I can’t believe he remembers that. When I turned fifteen, Jay had his mom make me a German chocolate cake, even though it was his favorite dessert. I pretended to like it anyway, but the texture was dry and tasted crumbly in my mouth.

I watch him toss the dirty sock in his trash bag. “Well,” I finally say. “Whoever lost it has good taste.”

We both work in silence for a few more minutes before I proclaim that I need a water break. We walk over to the cooler together. I pull down one of those paper cones and fill up.

When I turn around, I see Alex yanking off his T-shirt. His brown skin is smooth, uninhabited by freckles or birthmarks or scars. But that’s not what captures my attention. No—it’s the toned curves of his back muscles. The taut slopes of his shoulders.

I suddenly can’t move. I’ve gone completely catatonic.

It’s clear Alex got taller, but this. This is not the wiry fifteen-year-old I remember.

Water accidentally dribbles down my chin. My hand flies to my face, and I brush it away before he can see.

Alex wipes the sweat off his forehead with his T-shirt. I step aside so he can get to the water jug, but I’m suddenly self-conscious. I’ve practically sweated all my makeup off, and I can feel pools of it on my hairline. I must look like a complete greaseball. And—oh, no. Did I put on deodorant? I must have, right? Will he notice if I do a sniff test? He will. Don’t do it, Kira. I take a tiny step away from him just in case.

Alex moves the water cup away from his lips. And now I’m looking at his lips. I’ve noticed his lips before, but not the shape. How the bottom sticks out slightly farther than the top. I imagine they’re soft lips. Kissable lips.

Wait, what?

WHAT is happening?

I must be having some sort of heatstroke. Can the heat make your hormones flare up? That’s why they call it flare up, right? That must be it. The sun is the sole cause of my suffering. But I can’t leave, because then Lin would kill me. I have to find a way to make it stop.

Without thinking, I toss the rest of my water in his face.

Before he can react, I pick up my trash bag and run back toward the west side of the lake. What is wrong with me? He’s going to think I’m unhinged. But a second later, I hear footsteps coming in fast. It’s Alex. Trying to catch up. When I glance backward, I’m relieved to see he’s smiling. Oh, good. So maybe he doesn’t think I’ve completely lost it.

Then I notice that he’s still carrying his water cup.

When I stop under the grove of trees, he slows his pace. I’m thankful to see he’s pulled his shirt back on. I can’t handle any more distractions right now, and I cannot, cannot be attracted to Alex Ramos.

Because, well, aren’t I holding out for Jay?

I watch him lift the cup over his head, coming closer to me.

I hold my hands in the air. “Truce?”

He just smiles. “Why don’t we make it even?”

Before I have a chance to run, Alex tips his cup. Ice-cold water soaks the top of my head and runs down my neck. Well, good. Maybe this is just what I need to nip my temporary loss of control right in the bud.

He laughs. I laugh, too. “You suck.”

Alex only shrugs, but he looks proud of himself.

We spend the rest of the time picking up trash and talking about trivial things. He argues that the second season of Crime Boss is the best, but I think the fourth is the clear winner. We take turns trying to imitate Mrs. Donaldson’s nasally voice and wonder if Cedarville’s new football team will be good enough to go to state this year, which leads us to discussing our favorite concession foods. (Alex prefers hot dogs. I prefer nachos.)

We don’t talk about his text.

I know I can easily bring it up, but I can’t seem to let the words form on my tongue. He deserves to know I got the message. Yet every time I consider opening my mouth, I remember how it felt when he told me he was going to Sadie’s with Lacey. The unexpectedness, like losing your footing in front of a large crowd, was mortifying. Bringing up his text from so long ago only for him to stumble out with “Oh! That. Yeah, I don’t feel that way now” is something I don’t think I’m ready to hear.

Maybe, maybe I’m afraid of being denied by Alex Ramos again.

When our time is up, we walk back to the picnic table. Our steps fall in sync together. It’s nice. Peaceful. I take a moment and stare up at the sky.

“I used to wish my eyes were blue,” I say. “I’d tell my dad I wanted them to be the color of the sky. Brown is boring.”

“Nah, I like brown.” Alex’s gentle gaze falls on mine, making my heart race unexpectedly. A beat passes. Then another. “It suits you perfectly.”