“Are you, like, in trouble?” Britnee didn’t say it like she thought Skye could possibly be in any real trouble. “Because you were going really fast? And I’d hope you wouldn’t knock anybody down on purpose?”

“I said I was sorry,” Skye said curtly. She would’ve apologized more to anyone else on earth, but not this girl. Not the one who stole her boyfriend.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, Craig appeared at that moment to help Britnee up. “What is your problem, Skye?”

“My problem? My problem?” If only she had just one problem to deal with. “Forget it, okay?”

“No,” Craig said. “We’ve got to talk. Britnee, tell Ms. Loos I’m—sick or out or something.”

“Um, okay?” Britnee looked as startled as Skye felt when Craig took her by the arm and steered her toward the art room, which was empty during second period.

“Don’t grab me!” Skye threw his hand off.

“Don’t make me say all this in the hall,” Craig retorted.

Skye, who had already had enough of people at Darby Glen staring at her like she was some kind of freak, followed him into the room. Besides, it would feel good to unload on somebody. Anybody. The fact that it was Craig—faithless, cruel—was a bonus.

As soon as she shut the door, he said, “Where do you get off attacking my girlfriend?”

“It was an accident, Craig. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Is that a crime?”

“An accident. Right. You hate Britnee. You laugh every time that bitch Madison Findley jokes about Britnee being ‘fat’ or ‘stupid’ or any other insult she can throw at her.”

Which—was true. And not exactly cool of her to do, even if Madison was only making those jokes to cheer Skye up. “Don’t call Madison a bitch. She’s my friend.”

“If that’s the kind of person you want to hang around with, fine. You’ve changed, Skye. I used to think we could be friends again someday, but there’s nothing in you but hate.”

“If I hate you, don’t I have a reason?” Skye’s voice was getting louder. She tried to keep her voice down, so that the entirety of Mrs. McCauley’s Algebra II class next door wouldn’t hear every word. “You slept with me and then you dumped me.”

“Months after that!”

“How could you do any of that to me after Dakota died?”

Her words were shrill even to her ears. The anger drained out of Craig in an instant. Wearily he leaned against the drafting table, bowing over as if from the weight of it all. “Skye, don’t you get it?” he said. “If Dakota hadn’t—I was going to break up with you at the start of the summer. Face-to-face, like I know I should’ve. But after he died, I couldn’t.”

“What?” She’d never dreamed that was possible. Craig had been there for her every second of that time, and she’d been too lost in her own grief to notice that his thoughts might have been far away, too. “But—why?”

“There wasn’t any reason why. We’d been at different schools for two years. You came home talking about all these people I didn’t know and events I hadn’t been to, and when I talked about being here, it bored you, too, and—we were just growing apart. It happens. I knew I cared about Britnee, but I never asked her out—never even touched her—and finally it got to the point where I had to break up with you or turn into a cheater. I don’t cheat. I was honest with you. So why do I have to be the bad guy?”

Skye’s anger returned. “Well, now because you slept with me knowing you were going to dump me.”

Craig ran his hand over his stubble-short hair. “I shouldn’t have. I know that. But—it was your idea, remember?”

It had been. She’d felt so empty, so alone, after Dakota’s death. Craig had been her lifeline and her comfort that summer, and she’d thought—maybe if they took that final step, she’d finally feel alive again. Feel anything again. But she’d never dreamed that it wasn’t something Craig wanted, too.

“My idea.” Her eyes were welling with tears now. “Well, thanks for humoring me.”

“That’s not—oh, crap. I know it was a mistake, all right? I know. But I was mixed-up, and I thought maybe it would change things for us. That was stupid. I’m sorry.” Craig’s voice wavered a little; this had upset him as badly as it had her. What right did he have to be so hurt?

And yet, the part of her that remembered being in love with him hated to hear him so broken up. That flicker of feeling—no longer love, but still powerful, still real—upset her as much as anything else she’d been through that day. She didn’t hate him, not down deep, and she wanted to, just because hate was easier. Simpler. Knowing that about herself was hard.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” she repeated, but quietly this time. “You should’ve told me the truth.”

“I couldn’t leave you after Dakota.” While she was dating him, Craig and Dakota had become friends. They used to shoot hoops out in the driveway of the old house. How had she forgotten that?

“All you did was put the pain off until later.” Skye wiped at her eyes. “It didn’t hurt any less.”

Craig looked as guilty as she wanted him to feel. She’d always thought it would help to see him feeling like the scum of the earth. It didn’t.