“No problem. I like Shane, too. And I don’t want you running off again.”

A wry laugh escapes me. “I won’t. My thighs were sore for a week.”

“You had it coming.”

“I know. I’ll be in my room until dinner, okay?”

“Sure, honey.”

Once I get in there, I shut the door behind me and lean on it for a few seconds, eyes closed. I wish I’d memorized every moment with him, so they’d be sharp as crystal instead of dream-fogged. Lonely, I pull out my phone and type:

You there?

No reply.

I fling myself on my bed and lie there on my face. Ten minutes later, my phone vibrates. I snatch it up and swipe the screen to unlock it. I don’t recognize the number, but the message clues me in. This is Cassie. I know it’s short notice, but I wondered if you had time for coffee.

I text back, sure. OMW. It’s better than sitting here, worrying about Shane. So I put my shoes on and call to my aunt, “I’m meeting a friend at the Coffee Shop. Is that all right?”

“Who?”

“Her name’s Cassie.”

She brightens at hearing a new name. “Okay. Be home before dark.”

The days are a little longer as we roll toward spring, so I think I can manage. After putting on a jacket, I get my bike out of the shed and head into town. Cassie’s already waiting when I arrive, but she stands up when she sees me. For a minute I think she’s going to hug me like we’re old friends instead two girls who were briefly infatuated with Ryan McKenna. He’d die if he saw us together.

“You look like you’ve lost weight,” she says.

Do I? I have no idea. But I guess riding your bike a hundred miles in the cold burns a lot of calories. I decide to pretend it’s a compliment. “Thanks. You look good, too.”

She’s got some highlights and new glasses, and she’s wearing jeans and a cute sparkly top instead of her work uniform. “I got a coffee already. Hope you don’t mind, but I could use an actual caffeine transfusion.”

“Still working both jobs?”

“Yeah. I don’t see an end to that for another two years.”

“I admire your dedication.”

She shrugs. “If you want something bad enough, you do what it takes to make it happen.”

Her words take root inside me as I’m standing in line for my chai latte, but the problem is, I don’t know what more I can do for Shane. I can’t magically emancipate him or roll time forward so that he turns eighteen faster. What else can I do?

“You look thoughtful,” Cassie says as I sit down across from her.

I don’t know what comes over me then, but I dump the whole story in her lap. Her eyes widen as I unburden myself. Finally, I pause to draw breath and she holds up a hand. “So what’s your ultimate goal here?”

“To bring Shane home.”

“And you can only achieve that through emancipation or his father’s cooperation, correct?”

“Sounds about right.”

“So go after Cavendish again. I’m not suggesting you ride out to visit him,” she adds hastily. “But call him. Call him every damned day until he can’t take anymore. Pressure him into doing the right thing.”

“You think that would work?”

Cassie shrugs. “It can’t hurt. Isn’t it better than sitting around for four months?”

“Yeah.”

“This isn’t how I imagined this conversation would go,” she admits, taking a sip of her coffee. She drinks it black, no cream or sugar to dilute the caffeine.

“What did you picture?”

“I figured we’d talk about Ryan. This was better, I think.”

“Did you want to ask about him?” I don’t blame her if she still cares about him. They were together, so to speak, for a while. There are bound to be residual feelings. It’s impossible to turn them off and on. All around me, I see relationships in stages of coming together and falling apart. Sometimes it feels like it’s happening at the same time, like a cascade of fireworks that sets a house on fire.

“Maybe. Is he seeing anyone?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him, romance-wise.”

“It’s immature, but I’m glad he hasn’t moved on. I haven’t. Not that I have time.”

“I get it. You loved the guy you thought he was. And it’s hard to let go.”

“You’re pretty wise,” she says.

“I’m still figuring things out. For the first time, though, I think maybe I have a clue.”

She laughs. “Just one?”

Before she leaves, we take a duck-face photo together with my camera and I promptly post it on my Facebook wall, along with a tag for Ryan. My caption reads, Cassie and me, girl talk. Yep.

Ryan responds immediately. OMG. WTH! More acronyms! Cassie’s laughing so hard she can hardly stand to leave. Soon, she has to run because she hasn’t had any sleep in two days. Time for me to imitate her determination.

Like Cassie advised, I call Mr. Cavendish daily. The first time, I’m polite. “Did you know Shane’s out of juvie? He’s in foster care now. But you could save him.”

He hangs up on me.

Day after day, I’m relentless. He keeps slamming the phone down. Finally, I say, “Look, do the right thing. Shane gave his mother how many years? You can give him a few months.”

In time, he stops answering his phone, so I leave messages with the front desk. I don’t care how he feels about the office workers knowing his private business. Like Cassie said, you have to be willing to fight.

School is … normal, I guess. My geometry grades slip a little without Shane tutoring me, but Ryan and Lila take up the slack. We’re like the Three Musketeers, but I miss the fourth side of our quadrangle. Shane still hasn’t texted me.

And I haven’t received any new mail from him, either. It’s been a month since he left juvie.

Where the hell are you, Shane?

It seems like he could find some way to get in touch with me. I told him my e-mail when he was sending that message to Mike, his former guardian. If he remembers.

If he remembers me.

Pain overwhelms me. Maybe he just wants to forget everything. Start over. And it would be selfish of me to drag him back here, back to that crappy trailer, if he’s happier where he is.

And I want Shane to be happy. I do.

I just thought he was happiest with me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

So I’m planting the garden without Shane.

It’s a warm day. Sunny. Green World is hard at work. Both Lila and Ryan are here, our usual members, and even the four sophomores who deserted me. They’ve all apologized. Mel told me that she reported seeing Dylan bully people, so that’s something. She’s partially responsible for his social downfall, and it’s scary how fast people turn when you’re booted off the football team. Now Dylan Smith’s a pretty face with no crew, and payback is a bitch.

So I’m absolutely stunned when he shows up here. Everyone freezes.

I’ve got my fingers in the dirt, planting the seeds according to Gwen’s directions. I don’t know that much about gardening, but I like how it looks already. This lot looks like somebody cares. We care. And I would’ve sworn Dylan Smith doesn’t—about anything except his mom, that is—so nobody knows what to say.

I push to my feet. “What’re you doing here?”

“Can we talk for a minute?”

“I guess.” I move away far enough that the others can’t overhear, but they can still see us.

“It’s weird that you said yes,” he mutters. “Nobody else is talking to me.”

There are two ways I can handle this. I can be bitter and say he deserves it, but that’s not how Aunt Gabby has taught me to behave, even to my enemies. She’s kind even to cranky old Mr. Addams, who’s forever holding up the grocery lines. And she’s the kind of woman I want to be. So I don’t tell Dylan what an asshole he is. I figure he knows.

“What’s this about?” I ask instead.

“My mom’s got me in therapy. She’s worried that I’ll turn into a serial killer with mommy issues or something.”