“I like boys,” Hannah had said with a shrug. “But it’s complicated. They’re not worth the trouble right now.”

“Maybe you’ve been with the wrong guys. Usually, it’s the ladies who overcomplicate shit.”

But maybe Sandy was the one getting things wrong. When guys really wanted you—all of you—it probably was a shitload messier. Maybe Sandy’s relationships with boys had always been simple because they weren’t relationships at all. Guys wanted one thing from Sandy: sex. And she knew after a lifetime of watching Jenna that it was stupid to give it up to them as easily as she did. But for some reason, it had always felt more stupid to snap on a chastity belt. Only an idiot would think doing that would change the way things were going to turn out for her.

“I’m not saying the guys are complicated.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “It’s a bunch of other things. My mom, for one. If you think she’s uptight about glitter shoes, imagine what she’d be like about boys. Anyway, it’s not just her. I think maybe I want to save myself until marriage. And don’t bother making fun of me. I already know you’ll probably think that’s ‘fucked up’ or whatever.”

Hannah always sounded so weird, swearing. Like she didn’t know what the words meant.

Sandy shrugged. “Is that what you want? To wait until you’re married? And I mean you, not your mom.”

Hannah looked up then. “Yes,” she said quietly. “It is what I want. When I’m with someone finally, I want it to be someone who likes me for me, you know. All the boys I know, usually, it feels like all they care about is themselves.”

What the hell did Sandy know? That was probably exactly what Hannah should do: wait for someone more mature. It was probably exactly what Sandy should have done.

“If that’s what you want,” Sandy said, “then there’s nothing fucked up about it.”

“I can’t tell you how good it is to see that you’re okay,” Hannah said again once they were upstairs. She motioned for Sandy to sit on the bed while she pulled out the desk chair and turned it around. Hannah did look relieved now, happy almost. “I mean, you look tired, like I said. But I was picturing—I don’t know, worse.”

Sandy needed to pull the trigger—end this in a way that hopefully wouldn’t make Hannah freak. Then Sandy needed to back the fuck out of this mess, slow and steady. No big movements.

“Yeah,” Sandy said. “So listen, I’m glad I came, too. Because I needed to tell you that I’m going out of town. I might be pretty hard to reach for a while.”

Not moving out of Ridgedale, though, that would be too much. Just a trip, an excuse for Sandy to be out of touch. People like Hannah went out of town all the time—long weekends, summer vacation—it was a regular thing they did.

“Oh?” Hannah looked worried as she rocked her hips back and forth, tucking her hands beneath her thighs. “Where are you going?”

Crap. Sandy hadn’t worked that out. That was another thing people like Hannah did: They planned an actual place to go instead of driving around randomly, like the last time she and Jenna had gone on “vacation” and ended up at a Courtyard Marriott in Camden.

“Washington, D.C.,” Sandy said. First place that jumped to mind. And it was somewhere regular people went. “For a few weeks. Maybe a month.”

“A month?” Hannah blinked at her. “That’s such a long time.”

Shit, it was. Sandy shouldn’t have said a month. She should have started small, hoped for the best. But what did any of this matter? A week, a month. At the end of the day, Sandy wouldn’t be able to control what Hannah said or who she said it to once she was gone. All the more reason for Sandy to go for real. To go far. And to go forever. But for that, she’d need Jenna.

“Yeah, it is kind of a long time,” Sandy said. “But my mom wants to stay for a while, so . . .”

“Won’t you have your phone?”

Shit. Why hadn’t she thought of that either? “Uh, my mom won’t let me bring it. She wants to, you know, unplug.”

“Oh, okay,” Hannah said. She seemed satisfied. Only she, with that mother of hers, would believe that bullshit. “Well, thanks for coming over. I just, I couldn’t— I needed to actually see you to know that you were okay. It was— I couldn’t sleep, thinking about it. Also, I wanted to make sure that you don’t blame yourself. Because it was an accident, the whole thing.”

Sandy nodded, afraid of saying the wrong thing when she was so close to getting out the door. “Yeah—I mean, no. Definitely don’t blame myself. Thanks for checking. But I do kind of have to go now. My mom will be waiting for me. Can I just use your bathroom before I take off?” She wanted to splash water on her face, wash her hands. She’d been on her bike for hours.

“Yeah, sure, of course. It’s right down the hall on the left.”

Sandy stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Hannah was right. She did look like shit. But it wasn’t like she was going to start looking better anytime soon. When she made it home to their empty apartment, she’d never be able to sleep.

The medicine cabinet caught Sandy’s eye then. Maybe there was a chance she could feel better for a while. Or maybe she could just forget a little bit. At this point, she’d settle for that. For temporary. Seemed about fucking time Sandy cut herself a break. And yeah, it would be better if it wasn’t the chief of police’s medicine cabinet she was about to swipe some bottles from. But it wasn’t like he’d know she’d been there. Besides, maybe Aidan had the right idea all along. Maybe what she needed was a bigger fuck-it bucket.

Sandy opened the medicine cabinet; there were more than half a dozen little amber bottles with all sorts of different names. There had to be something in there that would work. That would wipe out the world. She grabbed a couple of the older bottles from the way back (one of Barbara’s, one of Steve’s—faded, nearly expired, less likely to be missed) that had the telltale Danger, Controlled Substance. Illegal to Dispense Without Prescription. Tranquilizers, painkillers, what difference did it make? One of them was bound to do the trick. Sandy shook the bottles, and something rattled inside. Not now, though, not yet. Only if she really couldn’t fucking take it anymore—the looking for Jenna, the remembering. Sandy shoved the bottles in her pockets. She was pulling her shirt down over the lump in her jeans when there was a soft knock on the door.

“You should go now, Sandy. Out the back door,” Hannah whispered from the other side. “My brother just woke up and he’s really upset. My mom’s on her way home.”

Sandy saw the notice—bright yellow and taped across her apartment door—as she was coming up the steps of Ridgedale Commons. Even from that distance, she could see the padlock, too. The guy had said twenty-four hours. He’d probably even given her an extra few.

“Shit.” Sandy stopped and leaned against the wrought-iron railing, feeling her throat squeeze tight. She just couldn’t keep it all in anymore. Couldn’t take one more goddamn thing. “Shit!”

She yelled it so loud that her throat vibrated as she slid down the wall. She curled up on the ground, arms wrapped tight around her knees, mouth pressed against them. And then she started to bawl. Once she’d started, it was like she was never going to stop. Her body shook and she couldn’t catch her breath. Her face was a snotty mess. She jammed her lips harder against her knees until she felt like her mouth might tear. She wanted it to.

Sandy was still crying when she heard Mrs. Wilson’s door open. A second later, she heard the old lady come out, felt her staring down. Fuck.

“Good Lord,” her neighbor said. “What in heaven are you doing?”

Perfect. Exactly what Sandy needed: to have Mrs. Wilson rip in to her. Sandy shouldn’t have yelled. Not right outside Mrs. Wilson’s door. She knew better. Sandy tried wiping her eyes, hoping it would help her stop crying. But that only made it worse. She felt like she was melting beneath her fingertips, like her tears were washing away her skin.