My mom’s new boyfriend, whom I’d never met but who my sister said was nice, apparently stayed over all the time. It weirded me out to think that there was some guy around who wasn’t Dad. That the world hadn’t been put on hold, and things had changed, and an accountant named Drew had filled our fridge with protein shakes.

Lane and I had only a few more weeks together before everything changed. A few more weeks to be the Latham versions of ourselves. And I was determined to make them count, to enjoy the last scraps of happiness while I could still pick them out of the rubble.

I was certain that I wouldn’t be cool and offbeat the way I was at Latham. The girl with the red lipstick and tough boots, who talked back to the French teacher and made a joke out of the cafeteria rules. The girl with the camera and contraband, always sneaking away with her friends like they were up to no good, always laughing the loudest and giving the impression that even alone in my room I was doing something interesting. All of that would be gone, whoosh, and I’d be the weird new girl who’d been out sick for so long that everyone had forgotten about her, even her family.

MY MOM CRIED, although I could hear her smiling through the tears. She told me that my room was waiting for me, and that she’d wash the sheets before I got home, like my sheets had gotten up to all sorts of nefarious business while I was away. She said we’d go for tacos, and she couldn’t wait for me to meet Drew, and Erica had a gymnastics meet right before Christmas, and I just had to see her floor routine. She sounded so happy that I went along with it, because from the way she was rambling, I had the impression that she’d prepared herself a long time ago never to need to wash those sheets.

I HAD AN appointment with Dr. Barons on Thursday, so he could change the battery in my med sensor. It needed to be swapped out every couple of months, and the whole process made me feel like a robot. I’d had the sensor for so long that for the few moments when it was off my wrist, I felt untethered, like something was missing.

When I was younger I’d had this star necklace I used to wear, which I never took off, not even to shower. My dad had given it to me. I’d unclasped it the night my parents told me they were getting a divorce, and I overheard them whispering about the truth; that my dad loved some woman from his office, apparently more than he loved us, because he’d rather be with her than his family. For the next week, I’d reach up to grab my star necklace, forgetting not just that I’d taken it off, but that I was no longer my father’s North Star, and he no longer wanted to find his way home.

Apparently, I’d been lost in thought, because Dr. Barons was like, “I’m going to need to put that back on you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, sorry.”

I held out my wrist, watching as he took out a tiny wrench and screwed on the plate that kept it shut. He smiled at me reassuringly, fiddling with the clasp. He screwed the back panel into place, but the green light didn’t turn on, and he made a face.

“Hmmm. Let me reset it,” he said, taking a paper clip out of his pocket and inserting the end of it into one of the tiny holes on the side of my med sensor. He held it there until something clicked, and then the green light flicked on.

“These things shut off sometimes,” he explained. “Just need a reset to get them going again.”

“Yep, Gatsby should be able to spot me now,” I said, and Dr. Barons smiled at me distractedly.

“All set.” Dr. Barons took out his tablet, making sure I was back online. But then he furrowed his brow at the data.

“Everything okay?” I asked, hopping off the exam table.

“Your temperature’s a little high,” he said, scrolling down his tablet screen. “Heart rate, too.”

He swiveled toward the computer and typed something in, pulling up a series of X-rays and tabbing between them.

“Are those mine?” I asked.

Dr. Barons nodded, then pivoted toward me on the stool.

“Is anything wrong?” I asked.

Dr. Barons smiled at me.

“No, no . . . nothing that a dose of protocillin won’t fix.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LANE

LATHAM HAD NEVER felt more like a summer camp than it did in those first few days after news of the cure. Suddenly everyone was talking about the future and making jokes about adding each other on Facebook. Camp Latham was almost over, and everyone was getting overly nostalgic about even the smallest things.

Halloween was that Friday, and although Sadie had been joking about decorative gourd painting, I hadn’t quite believed her. But it turned out she hadn’t been kidding. The nurses set up tables outside the cottages and taped down about a million trash bags so we wouldn’t make a mess.

Charlie’s was a masterpiece, and Marina’s was a Dalek, which Nick flipped over and tried to copy while she glared at him. Of course mine, a lopsided ghost-thing, came out so badly that Sadie joked it was lucky I’d never taken an art class.

“Take that back!” I insisted, brandishing my paintbrush.

“Nope. The grade still stands. D-minus. Good-bye Stanford.”

I swiped my paintbrush at her, landing a dot on her cheek. She squealed and tried to wipe it off, but only smeared it bigger.

“You’re gonna get it now,” Sadie said, leaning over and painting an orange stripe down my nose.

And suddenly the five of us were in the middle of a paint fight, or, I guess, the four of us, while Charlie hovered protectively over his gourd, begging us not to wreck it.

His gourd, like many civilians in war, was a casualty.

“Exterminate?” Marina said innocently, holding her still-dripping paintbrush.

“Oh, I am going to kill you!” Charlie said, staring at his mauled gourd. And then he picked up his paintbrush and joined the fray.

When it finally ended, everyone was staring at us like we were crazy. And maybe we were. We were covered in paint and surrounded by smashed and sabotaged gourds. One of the nurses came over and got really angry about it, and I could still feel flakes of paint in my ear that night while we watched Hocus Pocus in the gym.

“This movie is so lame,” Sadie whispered, shaking her head.

“I loved it when I was little, though,” Marina said, and we all agreed that yeah, we’d loved it when we were kids.

Nick had booze for us again, but he said that was the last of it until they restocked on Friday.

“We need some serious boozage for my birthday next Saturday,” Marina said, and Nick promised he had it covered.

Charlie had fallen asleep, and maybe it was the way he was curled around his pillow with his head thrown back, but his breathing sounded pretty ragged.

Is he okay?” I asked, nodding toward Charlie.

Nick peered over at him. “He’s fine. He always falls asleep during movies.”

“I think he stays up all night writing in that notebook,” Sadie said.

Nick nudged Charlie with his foot, and Charlie shifted, coughing a little in his sleep.

“Don’t eat the walrus, it’s poisoned,” he muttered, his left foot twitching.

“Yeah, he’s good,” Nick said.

We went back to watching the movie, which was pretty cheesy. It gave me flashbacks to the Year of the Gorilla Suit, which I couldn’t believe I’d told Sadie about. Way to seem cool, Lane. Way to make a girl fall in love with you.

Up ahead of us, these three girls in pajamas and drawn-on cat’s whiskers giggled at the screen, actually enjoying the movie. A group of boys eyed them. The boys were from Charlie’s floor, and they passed around a Nalgene bottle, coughing like they were swilling straight alcohol.

Next to me, Sadie sipped her juice box, our bare feet tangled together. Her toenails were painted blue, and her hair was down and wet from the shower, and she was so beautiful that I didn’t know what I’d do when I couldn’t see her every day, when I had to fall asleep catching up on my AP coursework instead of catching up with her.