THE NEXT DAY IN HISTORY class, I don’t spare myself any glances at Jay. At least, not until he taps on my arm, asking to borrow a pen after Mr. Densick hits us with a pop quiz on the Revolutionary War.

I hand him an extra from my bag, noticing he has a dried smear of toothpaste under his bottom lip. Those were the lips I’d imagined kissing over and over while I was living in Portland. I fantasized about him grabbing my hand in a dark movie theater, and how my stomach would flip whenever his steady blue eyes fell on mine.

But then I remember those small memories that tugged at my brain over the past few weeks. He’d never checked up on me when I was in Portland, not even through text. Then there were trivial things, like how he hadn’t put any effort into my Christmas gift and homecoming mum when we were together. Plus, at Breck’s party… it was like talking to a stranger. Not to mention Friday night at Sonic, when he made a not-so-innocent move on me and then ditched me to get drunk at Winsor Lake.

A funny emptiness sits in the pit of my stomach. That’s when I know—it’s different now. I don’t feel like my nerves are on fire when I look at him. Those overwhelming feelings have diminished. There’s a small pang of sadness in my chest, but I know it’s not because he’s with Whitney.

It’s not until after class that I realize—maybe this is what it feels like to fall out of love.

I text my dad after school to let him know I’m staying a little later to watch Lin’s decathlon practice, where they’re having a mock competition to prepare for the Super Quiz, which is an event open to the public that doesn’t happen officially until early next year. But, as Lin says, preparing ahead of time in front of an audience doesn’t hurt.

Mr. Densick is the teacher in charge of the team, so everyone meets in his classroom after school. They’ve managed to rope in two other students to observe, and for the next forty-five minutes they do their best to answer a series of challenging questions Mr. Densick has prepared.

Lin second-guesses herself a lot, and I know the pressure of the time limit doesn’t help. Surprisingly, Breck answers a good amount of them correctly. I can tell he’s proud of himself, too, especially when Mr. Densick compliments him at the very end.

Once they wrap it up, I see her breathe a sigh of frustration. Breck must notice as well, because he holds up his hand in a high five, which Lin dejectedly meets.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he’s saying as I walk over. “You did good.”

“You did good,” Lin replies, and it’s not at all sarcastic. “I’m the one who sucks.”

“No negative attitudes allowed in this room,” Mr. Densick says, shuffling through papers on his desk.

I give her an encouraging smile. “Breck’s right. Also, you both were great.”

Lin gives me a quick hug. “Thanks for sticking around.” She turns to Breck. “Honestly? And don’t get an even bigger head, but I’m glad you’re on the team.”

Breck lets out an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest dramatically. “Did everyone just hear that?”

“Okay, I literally said—”

“LIN PHAM IS GLAD I’M ON THE TEAM.”

I wave good-bye to both of them. “I should get home.”

She’s trying not to smile at Breck’s enthusiasm, but cracks. “Thanks again for com—”

“LIN THINKS I’M THE BEST.”

“Don’t twist my words!”

I can’t help but grin. It makes me happy to see them succeeding with Breck’s contribution to the team.

When I get home, I don’t go inside right away. I sit in the silence of my car and scroll through old photos on my phone, stopping when I find the section of selfies I’d made Jay take with me after a football game freshman year. We’re both in uniform making silly faces, except for the last one where we’re both cracking up over something.

My heart remains still in my chest, not fluttering even once.

It feels so weird. Final.

I pull the keys out of the ignition and walk inside. Wallis bounces around me in his familiar enthusiastic greeting, but once he gets the attention he desires he pads away.

I set my book bag down by the stairs and wander into the kitchen. Peach is sitting at the kitchen table, my dad’s laptop perched in front of her. She’s wearing thin frames as she studies the screen. A pile of opened mail sits beside her.

“Hey!” she says. “I brought home some cupcakes from the bakery. If you’re hungry, there’s stew on the stove.”

I’m about to thank her when my eye catches the piece of mail at the top of the stack. It’s addressed to my dad, but I notice the return address reads CEDARVILLE HIGH SCHOOL. I pick it up, realizing that it’s my progress report.

I’m immediately infuriated. “Did you go through my mail?”

Peach glances up, startled. Then she notices the envelope in my hand.

My dad emerges from his room. “What’s going on?”

I cross my arms, glaring at her. It’s not enough that they’re infiltrating my home. She has absolutely no right going through my personal items.

My dad takes my progress report from me as Peach tries to explain. “Your dad wanted me to help him get some things in order. I’m filing all of it for—”

“Kira, you have a D in algebra?”

There’s anger in his voice, but I’m too mad to worry about that. Instead I turn to Peach. “You can’t just go through my stuff whenever you feel like it.”

“It was in your daddy’s name, I just assumed—”

My dad steps in. “That’s okay, Peach. I know you’re trying to help.”

I can’t believe it. My dad is actually defending her. I thought we were on the verge of a breakthrough after we talked the other night on the way to Lucky’s.

My face heats up, and I feel my defenses rise. “It’s not okay. What about this is okay?”

I can tell by the look on my dad’s face that my outburst is not welcome, but I don’t care.

“Grams used to take care of the finances,” he says. “I needed a little help getting organized, that’s all.”

Peach stands up. “I—”

“No.” I don’t want to hear it. I’m tired of her always hanging around, worming her way into my life. “I don’t care what my dad says. I don’t want your help—I don’t want you here. You’re not Grams, and you’re not my mother.”

Silence.

Dead. Silence.

I can’t look at my dad. I know he’s furious, but he’s not the only one. I don’t even know why he wanted me to move back here in the first place. Not when he has his Sober Living friends that apparently make his life so much better now.

“Kira, please apologize.”

His authoritative tone is back. I ignore it, taking the stairs two at a time, already aware that I’m going to be in huge trouble, but I don’t care. I close myself off in my room. All I wanted was a normal life with my dad. My dad. Nobody else. I don’t need anyone taking Grams’s place.

Wallis scratches at the door. Sighing, I get up and let him in. He sniffs around my bed skirt before nudging my hand with his nose, urging me to pet him.

I remember Nonnie mentioning that she was the fourth person to adopt Wallis. It’s weird, because even though his prior families abandoned him, he still has this automatic trusting demeanor. He’s been cast aside so many times but gives each new person another chance.

A voice in the back of my mind says, You’re the one not giving them a chance.

It says, You’re being too hard on him. On everyone.

Wallis paws at my bed. I let him jump up, which causes the mattress to creak and sag under his weight. I’m still convinced he’s part Shetland pony.

I don’t do my homework. Instead I walk over to my desk and unfold my twelve-steps list. My dad and I need to learn how to make a life for ourselves, and that means he can’t use them as a safety net anymore.

It’s time for us to start being our own family, just the two of us.