I looked around at the familiar room, one I thought I’d never see again—and certainly not looking just like it always had. I crunched down on an ice cube and it made my back teeth ache. Now that I was in her house, I felt a sudden, surprise rush of missing Sloane intensely.

But I’d been missing her all along. Hadn’t I?

As I shook my glass, just to hear the ice cubes clink, I realized that I hadn’t, not recently. That her list had become less about Sloane, and more about me. And Frank and Dawn and Collins, too. I wasn’t sure what that meant. I wasn’t sure what I wanted it to mean. I sipped at my water, wondering how much longer I had to stay. I was feeling jittery and out of sorts, like even being in Sloane’s house was making me think about things I hadn’t had to face in a while. And all I really wanted was to go home and not leave until things made sense again.

I saw Collins across the room, and waved to him. He met my eye, but then looked away, and I could see him sigh before he turned and headed toward me, expertly navigating his way through the crowd, his hands stuffed in his tuxedo pockets. He had dressed to the nines for the occasion, wearing a maroon bow tie and matching cummerbund, along with a pocket square.

“You’re looking very dapper tonight,” I told him as soon as he was close to me.

“Thanks,” he said a little shortly. He looked at me, then flicked his eyes away.  “Nice dress.”  The way he said it, I could tell it wasn’t exactly a compliment. Even though it was overheated in the house, far too many people and not enough air, I suddenly felt chilled.  And I remembered the look Collins had given me as I’d left Frank’s tent.

As though sensing this thought, Frank looked over at me and Collins, grimacing and shooting us a Sorry about thisexpression.

“Look,” I said, turning to Collins. I took a breath and decided to jump right in and not bother with the segue.  “About the other morning, what you saw. Me in Frank’s tent? Nothing happened. I just didn’t bring a pillow.”

“I didn’t think that anything happened,” Collins said, his voice flat.

“Oh,” I said, a little thrown by this. I’d expected this, somehow, to be a much longer conversation. “I just didn’t want you to think I’d do something like that.”

“Emily, I don’t,” Collins said, now sounding annoyed. “Come on. We’re friends.” I just looked at him for a moment, and maybe something of what I was thinking was in my expression because he frowned. “What?”

“I just . . . ,” I started. I really hadn’t expected to have this conversation with him, but we were there, so I might as well tell him what had been bothering me, just a little bit, all summer. “It’s just sometimes . . . it seems like you don’t want me around. That’s all. Sometimes I think you do,” I added quickly. “But it’s just a little confusing.”

Collins just looked at me for a moment, then tipped his head in the direction of the side porch. I nodded, and he led the way outside, as though he was the one who knew this house well, like he’d been the one to sit on this porch with Sloane on the Adirondack chairs, feet propped on the railing, looking up at the stars, talking for hours.

The porch was empty, maybe because the air was humid and damp, and there was a charged, heavy feeling, like the sky could open and it could storm at any moment. “Are we actually talking about this?” he asked, when we were both outside. “We have our honesty hats on?”

“Um,” I said. “Okay. Hats on.”

Collins looked away for a minute, out to the rolling hills that had been Sloane’s backyard, then turned to me. “Frank’s my best friend. Has been since we were kids. But most of the time, I only get to hang out with him when he’s not with Lissa, or student government, or the newest species of frog that needs saving.”

“Collins,” I started, but he waved this away.

“It’s okay,” he said, “it is what it is and I’ve accepted that. But this summer, when she was away, when he wasn’t trying to save the world or get the most polished transcript in history, I thought it was going to be the summer of Frank and Collins. Working together, hanging out . . .”

“And that’s happened,” I said, hearing how defensive my voice was, since I thought I knew where this was going.

“For about a week. And then you showed up.”

I swallowed hard. Even though I’d agreed to the honesty, that didn’t mean I necessarily liked this conversation. “But . . . ,” I started.

“And I’d been planning this camping trip forever, and when it gets rained out, Frank tell me he has this great idea for how to make up for it. And he invites you and Dawn.” He let out a breath and stared down at the scuffed wooden floor, his shoulders hunched.

“I didn’t mean to get in between you guys,” I finally said, hoping he knew it hadn’t been anything deliberate. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Collins said, shaking his head, sounding frustrated. “And I’m sure Frank doesn’t even know he’s doing it. It just gets hard, always being someone’s second choice.”

I took in Collins’s expression and realized why it was so familiar. It was the same one I’d had when Sloane had started choosing Sam over me. It was the reason I’d started skipping meets and cross-country practices, since I wanted to hang out with her whenever I could. “I know,” I said quietly.

“I think you do,” Collins said. He shrugged. “Or at any rate, you will soon enough.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. Collins just looked at me for a long moment, and I got the impression that he was weighing how much to tell me. “Hat,” I reminded him.

“Okay,” he said, folding his arms. “What do you think is going to happen when Lissa gets back?”

This question, on top of what I’d realized in the tent, hit me with what felt like physical force. “I . . . What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you think he’s still going to keep hanging out? And are you going to keep hanging out with Dawn when she’s back to school at Hartfield?” He gave me a measured look, and I realized Collins had been paying much more attention this summer than I had given him credit for. “September’s coming soon, Emily.  And I know you lost your friend, but you didn’t do a great job picking replacements.”

I took a step back; it felt like Collins had slapped me. “That wasn’t . . . ,” I started. “I didn’t do that.” But the words had hit a nerve; they wouldn’t be affecting me this way if they hadn’t. It was pretty much what I’d just thought, after all.

“Okay,” Collins said with a shrug, clearly willing to let it go.

“And are wenot going to be friends?” I asked, a little combatively. I was still trying to get my head around the fact that apparently everything I thought had been building this summer was going to disappear in a few weeks’ time.

“We’ll be friends,” he said to me. “But,” he said, and in that word, it was like the old Collins persona came back; his very posture seemed to change. “When I start dating the very lucky lady who’ll be my steady hang, maybe not so much.” He winked at me. “You understand.”

“Do you want to hear the truth?” I asked. I didn’t even think about it, just suddenly wanted to be as direct with him as he’d been with me. “Are our hats still on?” Collins nodded, looking wary, and I said, “You ask out the prom queens because you know they’ll say no.” It had just been a theory, but when he flushed a dull red, I realized that it had been correct. “Why don’t you try asking someone who might actually say yes?”

Collins just shook his head. “I don’t expect you to understand this, Emily,” he said after a pause.  “But who’s going to want to go out with me?” His voice was shaky, and after a summer of bravado and theatrical winks and neon polos, I felt like I was finally seeing him, hat on and guard down. Not the guy who tried the week before to get everyone to call him LL Cool C—Ladies Love Cool Collins—even though it only seemed to stick with Doug from work. This was the real Collins. And the real Collins just looked sad and disappointed. He gave a short laugh and gestured to himself. “I’m not exactly a catch.”