I took a deep breath, then slid my hand under the flap and pulled out the note, which had been written on her stationery. MOLLY WALKER was printed across the top in raised letters, and I ran my finger over them once before I bit my lip and started to read.

Andie!

Hello, my love. Happy 18th birthday! I so wish that I could be there to celebrate with you.

I have loved this car, and I’m so happy it’s yours now. I hope you’ll use it for so much more than getting around. This car, like you, is made for extraordinary things.

So have adventures. Go exploring. Drive around at midnight. Feel the wind running through your hair.

Life is so short, my darling. And there’s no day like today.

Drive safe. Have fun. I love you so much.

(But of course you knew that already.)

—Mom

PS—I know you already are, but take care of your dad for me. He needs help sometimes, even if he’s bad at showing it.

I set the paper down in my lap and wiped under my eyes, not trying to get myself to stop crying, just trying to dry my face off a little. I looked down at the note, still a little unable to believe it had happened—that my mom had left something behind for me after all.

I read it through again, still crying, when one line jumped out at me—no day like today. And I knew, just like that, what I had to do.

I had to find Clark and tell him how I felt—how I really felt—and see if he might want to give it another chance. Even if he said no, at least I would have tried. At least I would have tried to be as honest as I could be. Because right now I was just running away when things got too real.

I carefully put her note back in its envelope, folded over the flap, and placed it back in the glove compartment, closing it and then resting my hand there for a moment. Then I got out of the car and ran full speed into the house.

? ? ?

Fifteen minutes later I glanced at my reflection in my bedroom mirror and decided it was the best I could do under the circumstances. I hadn’t wanted to take much time, but even I knew that when you are going to tell someone that you love them and want them back, it’s probably best not to do it in the T-shirt you’ve slept in, especially if you’ve stolen it from them. I’d thrown on a skirt and a white T-shirt after rejecting almost everything else in my closet, since nothing seemed right for this—even though I had never done this before and had no idea what one actually wore for it. But I could feel my heart pounding as I ran a brush through my hair and slicked on some lip gloss. I needed to do this now, soon, before I lost my nerve, before I actually started to think about what I was going to do.

I stepped into my flip-flops, then took the stairs two at a time. I had a very strong feeling this was a have-in-person conversation, and even though I knew I probably should, I didn’t want to call first, didn’t want him to be able to tell me not to talk to him anymore. I wanted to see him—to talk with him face-to-face. To tell him how much I missed him.

I launched myself out the front door and hurried to my car. I’d just tossed my bag in the front passenger seat when I saw someone walking up the driveway.

I lifted my hand to cut the glare, then let it fall it when I saw it was Palmer.

I stood by my car, not really sure what to do. My heart was hammering as I raised a hand in a wave. I half expected that at any moment Palmer would change her mind, but she kept coming toward me until we were only a few feet apart.

“Hi,” Palmer said. She gave me a nervous smile, then stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jean shorts. “Sorry for just showing up like this.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, smiling back at her, hoping she hadn’t come over here to tell me that she’d decided we could never be friends again. “You know you can always come by.” Palmer nodded and took a breath. But before she could speak, I jumped in. “I really, really messed up,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know it was coming from a good place,” Palmer said, shaking her head. “But—”

“I know,” I said. “I was trying to control everything, because the thought of not having you guys . . .” I let out a shaky breath. “But I shouldn’t have interfered like that.”

Palmer nodded. “I know you were trying to help, in your own, very not helpful way,” she said, and I smiled. “But I overreacted. And I’m sorry, Andie.”

We just looked at each other for a moment, and then Palmer reached out to hug me, and I hugged her back, tight, neither of us moving for a few moments. When we broke apart, it felt like I’d just put down a really heavy burden I’d been carrying for too long, like something had finally been set right.

“What’s happening with them?” I asked when we stepped apart, hoping somehow that would have worked everything out.

Palmer shook her head, and those hopes were dashed. “Bri’s trying,” she said, shaking her head. “She’s apologized over and over again, but Toby won’t listen. I’ve barely seen her.” She looked over at my car and seemed to notice the keys in my hand for the first time. “Wait, are you leaving?”

“No,” I said, then hesitated. “Well, kind of. I was going to go talk to Clark. . . .”

“Clark,” Palmer said, her eyes widening. “Really? I was sorry to hear about you guys. . . .”

“Well—” I started, taking a deep breath, “Here’s the thing. I need to go tell him that I love him.”