This was the island at its most pure and most raw, and the effect was amazingly cleansing. Revitalizing. I felt more spiritual standing by the brutal, beautiful force of the ocean than I had at church on Christmas Eve. Maybe this was how I would worship from now on. Not in a pew, contained by walls and a roof, but out in nature instead, surrounded by water and trees and birds, all reminders of just how many pieces came together to make up our world. All the little miracles that came together just so, by chance or by will, at random, or according to plan—I wasn’t sure that it mattered. Whichever way, the world’s creation was nothing short of miraculous.

I spread our old red-and-white-checkered blanket along a patch of dry sand and plunked down on it, stretching out as I lay on my back and knotted my hands on top of my belly. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, a perfect beach day even if the winter sun couldn’t warm my upturned face. Hannah and Jesse gradually made their way over, settling down next to me. Not the tree house but the beach, and a new threesome of friends, but it was the same ratty, well-loved blanket that had seen us through so many adventures. Jesse, it seemed, had effortlessly filled in that third spot of the trio. But no matter how much I appreciated him, he could never be Izzy. No one would ever be Izzy.

We lay there in silence for a while, all of us lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the ocean. The sound of the waves crashing felt more important than any words I could think of to say over them.

But then Hannah cleared her throat, and I looked over to see her winding a finger through a loose curl of hair. I tensed, waiting for whatever announcement was coming next.

“So I know I haven’t really talked about the whole college application thing much in a long time. It just hasn’t seemed as . . . I don’t know, as important as everything else, Mina. Plus I know it’s all probably kind of weird for you, since you’re still not sure what you’re doing next fall . . .”

“Hannah.” My cheeks burned, the sudden warmth at odds with the cool of the sea winds. “Seriously, please don’t think that you can’t talk about college in front of me. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m still planning to commute to the Penn State branch next year and try to take as many online classes as I can. I’ve already been accepted, so there’s really not much else to decide about for right now. One step at a time, that’s all I can do. So what about you, Han? What’s the latest?”

Maybe I had avoided—we had avoided—the topic of college. I hadn’t intended to, not consciously at least. I cared about my friends’ futures, where they were going, what they’d be doing in the next eight months. I just couldn’t stand to think about Green Hill without them. Of course they’d want to move on, just as I had wanted to six months ago. The difference was they still could.

“Well, I don’t know anything yet, but I just finished my application to NYU for their journalism program. It’s my top choice by far.”

“What happened to Ole Miss?” I asked, afraid to feel too relieved. “Becoming a belle? I thought that was your new dream?”

“Oh, that. That was just a silly summer notion. I don’t want to go that far, Mina. New York is only two hours away, so I can come back all the time. And you can come visit, too. You and the baby, of course,” she added. “It’s a great school for journalism, hopefully not too great for me to get into. But more important, I can still see you when I want, not just on the major holidays and summer break.”

“Firstly, with your SAT scores and GPA, I’d be floored if NYU would be stupid enough to reject you. But secondly, I only want you going there if it’s what you want, Hannah. This can’t be about me. I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s about both of us. You’re not letting me do anything.” She was using her mom voice on me, the tone that meant there was zero room for debate. “So, Jesse, how about you? Have you heard back from anywhere? You’ve been pretty silent about the whole college thing so far.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like to get my hopes too high. And I don’t like to tell other people and then risk disappointing anyone else when it doesn’t happen. I’ll be disappointed enough on my own.” He took a deep breath and exhaled into the wind. “But, since we’re all being pretty open and honest here . . . I guess I can make an exception. I want to be in New York, too. It’s the only place other than LA to be for film, and I have family in Brooklyn, so I figure I could maybe live with them and save some cash. I have my submissions in at NYU, too, like you, and then Columbia, Pratt . . . But it just depends on what kinds of loans I can lock down. My parents aren’t able to help, so . . . So yeah, we’ll see. No promises.”

“So I might have a friend in New York!” Hannah squealed, her face lighting up. “That’s so awesome! Now Mina has double the reason to visit, and we can come back together on the weekends.”

“Hannah, seriously, dial it down a few notches,” Jesse said, tossing a handful of sand at her. “You’re jinxing both of us. It’s just a possibility. A maybe. We’ll see.” Jesse turned to me then, eyebrows cocked, and I knew he was waiting for my reaction.

I pressed my lips together and made myself smile. “That’s so exciting, guys, seriously. I would love to have both of you just a few hours away. And in New York City, too! You’ll be my tour guides.”

The words felt false on my lips, and I was furious at myself for not feeling happier about their news. Why didn’t I? Why couldn’t I be thrilled for them—following their dreams, moving to a big, bright new city, and studying at fantastic schools? I wanted to believe that I was only jealous because they’d be going off to all the excitement of New York while I’d still be in Green Hill.

But it was more than that; I knew it was. I couldn’t stop the shiny montage spinning through my mind: Jesse and Hannah laughing together in class with their brilliant, interesting new friends, exploring Central Park on the weekends, lingering in a downtown bookstore on a lazy Sunday afternoon as they drank overpriced French press coffee and talked about which indie movie to see in the Village that night.

They would not only both experience so many amazing new things—they’d experience those amazing new things together.

Without me.

Sure, they’d think about me, talk about me, call and visit and write e-mails with clever observations about their day, but it wouldn’t be the same. We wouldn’t be the same.

The beach day suddenly felt much less perfect and exhilarating. The air felt downright cold rather than refreshing and invigorating, the sand felt too dense and difficult to walk through, and the little grits I could feel gathering inside the edges of my sleeves made me want to be curled up in my clean, smooth sheets with a warm mug of chamomile tea in my hands. I wanted to be anywhere but there, with anyone but the two of them. And I felt even more terrible for wanting that—for wanting to be away from two of the best friends I would probably ever have. But it made me feel nauseated watching them, noticing now just how close the two of them had gotten. It wasn’t me and Jesse and me and Hannah. It was me and Jesse and Hannah. A full set of three, not two separate pairs. That realization should have made me happy, an old friend and a new friend getting along so well.

But I wasn’t happy, not at all, and I was ashamed of myself for it.

After we all started getting too cold to pretend we wanted to stay much longer, we piled back into Jesse’s truck. Hannah squeezed in the middle seat between us—which bothered me, though it hadn’t caused a second thought on the drive there that morning. We drove up the strip in silence until we found the first open restaurant, a tavern that would have looked entirely forlorn and vacant if not for the bright yellow OPEN flag flying by the front entrance. The restaurant looked just as abandoned inside. There was only one other customer being served—an old, grizzly looking man dwarfed beside his massive plate of battered fish, absorbed in the newspaper he had spread across the table. The sole waitress in sight was a frowning middle-age woman with purplish auburn hair to match the dark circles under her eyes.