It takes three hours, but eventually we have eight full bags, plus some random junk. I’m amazed when a truck pulls up. Gwen grins at me. “I bothered my dad to make some calls for us. And voilà! Phil is taking everything to the junkyard today.”

“Thanks. This is really impressive,” I say.

Gwen doesn’t answer; she’s counting piles before Phil can take them. Looks like Tara and Conrad gathered the most. He punches the air when he gets his five bucks, which is basically a latte or a frap. Still, it’s better than nothing. She’s more restrained, but she beams at Kenny, who cheers up a bit beneath his drooping Mario hat.

“That’s it,” Gwen announces, then she beckons to her dad’s friend.

Ten minutes later, when the truck pulls away, the lot looks fantastic. I can imagine how the garden will look. It would be awesome if we could do three different types: herbs, vegetables, and flowers nearest the sidewalk, adding both beauty and purpose to the wasted space. There are shops to either side of the lot. I think Aunt Gabby told me there was an inn here, a long time ago, but it burned down, and nobody cared to rebuild as this isn’t a tourist destination. There’s a motel out near the freeway, but this isn’t the kind of town that gets the bed-and-breakfast crowd.

“Good start,” Conrad says in his slow, dreamy way. “But we probably need to keep an eye on the place, make sure it doesn’t get junky again before spring.”

“Seconded,” Ryan murmurs.

That’s the first thing he’s said in my hearing this afternoon. I wonder what he and Shane talked about, if anything. Lila and I kept too busy for me to stare at them, but I was tempted. Gwen makes plans for a weekly watch program, and while I register my day to walk by, I’m only half paying attention. The meeting is breaking up by the time I tune back in again.

“Some of us are heading over to the Coffee Shop to wait for our rides,” Theo says.

I take that as an invitation, but I’m not interested. “I need to get started on my homework, but thanks. Next time?”

“Totally,” Kimmy says.

“That wasn’t horrible,” Mel is saying as the four of them stroll off.

“Next meeting’s at the library, usual time,” Gwen shouts and gets random finger gestures from people who are so done for now.

“So what’s next, Princess? Can we save a kitten from a tree?” Lila opens her eyes obnoxiously wide, so she looks like an anime character.

“Not tonight. I have to get home. And please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry.” She actually sounds it. “Old habits.”

I surprise myself by asking, “You want to come?”

She pauses, cocking her head in apparent contemplation. We’ve never done that, but she said she wanted us to be better friends. That means hanging out, right? Since I’m new at this, I’m winging it.

Finally she says, “Why not? Let me call my mom.” The conversation that follows is reassuringly normal. I hear Lila’s side, answering typical parental questions, then she hands me the phone with a sigh. “She requires corroboration that I’m running with a new crowd.”

“Hi, this is Sage.”

“Nice to meet you. Well, sort of.” Lila’s mom sounds friendly, curious, and desperately hopeful. “Did Lila really participate in some kind of project?”

“Yes, ma’am. We cleaned up the vacant lot between the dry cleaner’s and the hardware store. You can drive by and check it out if you like. I think it looks great. I’ve invited her to dinner at my house. If you want, I can have my aunt call you when we get there.”

She’s a little choked up. “No. No, that’s all right. I’m so happy she’s making some new friends.”

“Bye, Mrs. Tremaine.” I hand the phone back to Lila, who leans her head back in the classic Why-God-why pose.

“Well, that ranks among the more humiliating moments in my life. She doesn’t trust me at all anymore.”

“How come?” I ask.

“I got busted with some weed a while back. The stupid thing is, it wasn’t even mine. And I know everybody says that, but it really wasn’t. It was just stupid. Everything I’ve done in the last two years is stupid, starting with Dylan.”

“Dating him or dumping him?”

She cuts me a look. “What do you think?”

“The first thing.”

“Brilliant.”

When I turn, I nearly run into Shane, who’s come up behind me. His cheeks are flushed from wind and sun, his hair tumbling into his eyes. My fingers itch to brush it away, like he did for me once, but I’m not brave enough, especially with Ryan and Lila looking on. I tell myself that his smile warms just for me as he gazes down, that his so-blue eyes gain sparkle, but that might be wishful thinking. I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t know anything about guys. If I did, surely I’d have figured out Ryan’s not-so-cunning scheme long before he told me.

“I’m heading home,” Shane says, like he needs to tell me.

“See you tomorrow.” It’s a nothing of an exchange, but I’m smiling when I include Ryan in that statement, offering a parting nod.

“You want me to walk you home?” Ryan asks as Shane moves off down the sidewalk.

Lila takes half a step forward. “We’re fine.”

I know Shane has a five-mile walk ahead of him, and there might not be anything to eat. Dammit, I know too much about him now, and it bothers me. He doesn’t want me to feel sorry for him; and I don’t. I just desperately want to take care of him because, from what he’s said, it’s been a long time since anybody did. Since his mom was sick, she couldn’t, and his dad bailed. Plus, it will be dark soon—before I can think better of it, I run after him, leaving Lila and Ryan staring.

“Wait!” I’m digging into my backpack as I run. “You need some tape.”

“I do?” He’s adorable in his bemusement.

“Yes, it’ll keep you from getting hit at night.

“You realize there will be four cars on the road, maybe, the whole way home?”

“I don’t care. Please wear it?” If he makes me admit I’m worried about him, I will melt into a puddle of embarrassment. But I seem to have internalized my aunt’s fears.

“Okay, damn.” But there’s a fond note in his exasperation. I hope. Muttering, he takes the reflector tape and sticks it on his army jacket. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“G’night, Princess.” Somehow, when he says it, I don’t even mind … because he doesn’t mean it as a jab. Shane touches my nose lightly, then goes, glimmering, down the darkening street.

“That was kind of adorable,” Lila observes when I retrace my steps.

Ryan doesn’t seem to think so. In fact, he looks like I punched him in the stomach. He makes a good recovery, though, pasting on a smile. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d think he was fine. This is how his face looks just before killing a bug. Ryan loathes insects.

“So, taco night.”

I hope he’s not expecting an invite. My aunt’s chipotle seitan tacos are delicious; and he won’t be having any for a while. “Yep. Have a good night.”

Lila takes my arm in case I’m tempted to linger, but I’m not. I push my bike for a block before saying, “It’s over two miles. I’ll pedal. You can ride.”

“Seriously?” She shakes her head, but climbs on it.

This is less fun when I’m doing the work, but it’s good for me. It’s half past seven by the time we get to my house. The lights are on inside, which means Aunt Gabby is home and cooking. I push through the front door, calling out a greeting, and wipe my feet. She comes to the kitchen doorway, wearing her cute sunflower apron.

“Oh, you didn’t tell me we were having a guest.” But she’s glad.

Though she never says anything, she worries about my socialization. She thinks I try too hard to be positive and she’s afraid I don’t put enough effort into making friends. But she doesn’t realize how tough it is not to backslide after a bad day. I keep my temper under lock and key and, mostly, I’m okay. I treat rage like an alien that hides in a corner of my brain. My aunt is devoted to ensuring my life is as normal as possible—and I’m happy I’m done with therapy, finally. If I lose it, even once, I’ll have to go back, which is why I take such care never to lose my temper.