I was on the verge of telling Sloane her parents were here, and her mother was in the kitchen, when I realized I had no idea how long they’d been back for. But the fact was, they hadn’t come in to say hi to their daughter. And suddenly, I missed my mother, her constant popping in whenever I had a sleepover, her presence that I knew I could depend on, no matter what. “Just moving slowly,” I said, as I grabbed the remote and pointed it at the TV, making myself smile at her. “I ate too much pasta. Ready?”

Sloane clapped her hands together and grinned at me. “Always.”

14

STEAL SOMETHING

I stood against the wall of what had been Sloane’s living room, clutching a glass of sparkling water I’d gotten from a passing waiter. I was gulping it, hoping that the cold would wake me up, so I could try and understand what was happening. Because it felt a little like I’d just been dropped into a nightmare, or one of my parents’ experimental plays, where everything is designed to make you feel off-balance.

I was standing in Sloane’s living room, and it was still Sloane’s living room. Everything was still there. The furniture, the rugs, the oil paintings with their little lights, the books on the shelves bound in leather. None of it made any sense to me. Why had the Williamses left all their stuff behind? For just a moment, I wondered if it meant they were coming back. But even I couldn’t seem to get myself to believe it, and another explanation had started to circle around in my mind—maybe they had left it behind because it wasn’t theirs to take.

The house was packed, mostly people who seemed around my parents’ age, in tuxedos and gowns, with waiters passing around trays. Frank had waved across the room to me when I’d come in, but he was clearly being monopolized by his parents’ friends. I was okay with that, because I still wasn’t sure what I was going to say to him, or what it was going to be like between us. Frank’s parents, standing in the center of the room, seemed to be pulling off the illusion that things were still fine with them, unless you chose to notice how far apart they were standing, and how they never seemed to talk to each other.

I looked around at the familiar room, one I thought I’d never see again—and certainly not looking just like it always had. I crunched down on an ice cube and it made my back teeth ache. Now that I was in her house, I felt a sudden, surprise rush of missing Sloane intensely.

But I’d been missing her all along. Hadn’t I?

As I shook my glass, just to hear the ice cubes clink, I realized that I hadn’t, not recently. That her list had become less about Sloane, and more about me. And Frank and Dawn and Collins, too. I wasn’t sure what that meant. I wasn’t sure what I wanted it to mean. I sipped at my water, wondering how much longer I had to stay. I was feeling jittery and out of sorts, like even being in Sloane’s house was making me think about things I hadn’t had to face in a while. And all I really wanted was to go home and not leave until things made sense again.

I saw Collins across the room, and waved to him. He met my eye, but then looked away, and I could see him sigh before he turned and headed toward me, expertly navigating his way through the crowd, his hands stuffed in his tuxedo pockets. He had dressed to the nines for the occasion, wearing a maroon bow tie and matching cummerbund, along with a pocket square.

“You’re looking very dapper tonight,” I told him as soon as he was close to me.

“Thanks,” he said a little shortly. He looked at me, then flicked his eyes away.  “Nice dress.”  The way he said it, I could tell it wasn’t exactly a compliment. Even though it was overheated in the house, far too many people and not enough air, I suddenly felt chilled.  And I remembered the look Collins had given me as I’d left Frank’s tent.

As though sensing this thought, Frank looked over at me and Collins, grimacing and shooting us a Sorry about this expression.

“Look,” I said, turning to Collins. I took a breath and decided to jump right in and not bother with the segue.  “About the other morning, what you saw. Me in Frank’s tent? Nothing happened. I just didn’t bring a pillow.”

“I didn’t think that anything happened,” Collins said, his voice flat.

“Oh,” I said, a little thrown by this. I’d expected this, somehow, to be a much longer conversation. “I just didn’t want you to think I’d do something like that.”

“Emily, I don’t,” Collins said, now sounding annoyed. “Come on. We’re friends.” I just looked at him for a moment, and maybe something of what I was thinking was in my expression because he frowned. “What?”

“I just . . . ,” I started. I really hadn’t expected to have this conversation with him, but we were there, so I might as well tell him what had been bothering me, just a little bit, all summer. “It’s just sometimes . . . it seems like you don’t want me around. That’s all. Sometimes I think you do,” I added quickly. “But it’s just a little confusing.”

Collins just looked at me for a moment, then tipped his head in the direction of the side porch. I nodded, and he led the way outside, as though he was the one who knew this house well, like he’d been the one to sit on this porch with Sloane on the Adirondack chairs, feet propped on the railing, looking up at the stars, talking for hours.

The porch was empty, maybe because the air was humid and damp, and there was a charged, heavy feeling, like the sky could open and it could storm at any moment. “Are we actually talking about this?” he asked, when we were both outside. “We have our honesty hats on?”

“Um,” I said. “Okay. Hats on.”

Collins looked away for a minute, out to the rolling hills that had been Sloane’s backyard, then turned to me. “Frank’s my best friend. Has been since we were kids. But most of the time, I only get to hang out with him when he’s not with Lissa, or student government, or the newest species of frog that needs saving.”

“Collins,” I started, but he waved this away.

“It’s okay,” he said, “it is what it is and I’ve accepted that. But this summer, when she was away, when he wasn’t trying to save the world or get the most polished transcript in history, I thought it was going to be the summer of Frank and Collins. Working together, hanging out . . .”

“And that’s happened,” I said, hearing how defensive my voice was, since I thought I knew where this was going.