I nod. “Thanks.”

As we grab our coats and backpacks, I ask her, “What do you do with all your money, anyway?”

“Save it.”

“For what?”

“My trip to New York. Spring break. I’m going to see Charlie.” She patters down the stairs.

My jaw drops, and I follow her. “You’re what?”

She shrugs. “I already have my plane ticket.”

“You—you—” I sputter. We climb into the running car, where Trey is waiting, tapping the steering wheel with an annoyed look on his face. “Mom and Dad are letting you go? I can’t believe it.”

“Letting her go where?” Trey asks. He takes off quickly down the alley and turns onto the street.

Rowan is quiet from the backseat. I turn and look at her, and she’s pressing her lips together.

BANG “Oh my dog,” I say. “You haven’t told them?” “Told them what?” Trey asks.

“Well,” Rowan says, “since I have you both here, I’m

going to need some help covering my shifts. You both owe me plenty.”

“What’s going on?” Trey says in an outdoor voice.

I stare at Rowan. “Do you have any scope of realization over what you are about to unleash upon us all? They’ll call the freaking cops! Report you as a missing person!”

Trey pulls the car over on the side of the road. “What. Is. Happening!” he shouts, eyes ablaze.

I turn my attention to Trey. “Rowan has a boyfriend in New York and she’s going to see him over spring break.”

Trey whirls around, eyes bulging. “What?”

Rowan’s gaze settles somewhere to the left of and below Trey’s jaw. She starts biting her lip. “I’m going,” she says weakly.

“You’re fifteen!” he says. “Mom is going to blow a freaking gasket. Who is this loser?”

Rowan gets her courage back. “He’s not a loser! He’s— his name is Charlie.”

“Charles something something Banks,” I interject.

“The third,” Rowan adds, which is news to me. “His parents invited me. They paid for my ticket but I already told them I’ll pay them back when I get there.” She adjusts her collar. “We met at soccer camp.”

“He has a live-in tutor,” I offer.

“Not live-in,” Rowan says.

“She’s met his parents.”

Trey blinks. And then he shakes his head. “You little creep,” he mutters, checking his mirrors and pulling back onto the road. “Why can’t I ever find a Charles something something the Third?”

I face forward. “So you’re okay with this?” I ask him.

He gives a bitter laugh. “Fuck,” he says. “Why the hell not.” He punches the gas a little harder than usual and pulls into the school parking lot. “Why the hell not,” he says again. He parks a few rows from Sawyer’s car and looks over his shoulder at Rowan as he turns off the car and pulls out the keys. “You’re going to be the one who actually survives this family, aren’t you. The only one.”

Rowan just stares at him, and then he’s out and slamming the door, shoulders curved and head bowed to the wind.

We get out. “What was that all about?” she asks as Sawyer gets out of his car, sees me, and heads toward us.

I shrug, but I think I know, because I used to feel it too. Trey’s jealous. “I think maybe he wishes he had something you have,” I say. But I don’t take the time to explain, because Sawyer is standing on my shadow and his ropy lashes are about to lasso me in.

Gag. That was bad.

Ten

Rowan melts into the sea of students and Sawyer is pulling me to the side of the school building. “When,” he says.

“What?”

“When can I see you? I need to see you. After school? Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.”

“I—” I begin, and the rest of the automatic sentence,

have to work, drops away. His cheeks are flushed with the

cold. “Okay,” I say.

“Okay?” He sounds shocked.

“Yes,” I say, grabbing some of Rowan’s boldness before

it dissipates. “I—I’ll join a group. Volunteer.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Alibi. Just thinking out loud. Don’t you

have to work?”

“I switched with Kate.”

Kate. The cousin in college. Kate with the funky

blond hair whose life I saved. “Right. Excellent. Rowan

will cover for me. Okay.” I take a breath and decide

specifically not to think about what my father will do to

me when I don’t come home. Trey will help. As we walk

into school together I start reading posted signs on the

walls for the first time in my high school career. “Pep

Club? No, no way. Too much Roxie and BFF Sarah.

Psych Club . . . a-ha-ha-ha, no comment.” I keep looking. And then I turn to see Sawyer watching me, that

little smile on his lips. “Do you play chess?” I ask. “Um, why? Is this a trick question to determine if I’m

too awesome for you?”

“No no no, I’m just looking for a club to join so I have

an excuse to see you. I could tell my parents I’m in a chess

club, but then I might have to, you know, eventually, um,

prove that I know how to play.”