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During the lunch break, I’m glued to my phone. My eyes are fixed on the display, my finger hovering over the letters on the keyboard. Mom’s been texting me again, half a dozen times, and I’ve replied briefly:

Yes, I’m fine.

Yes, things went well with Brittany and Clark (but you already know that, right?)

Yes, they agreed that I can see Olivia, but they have to ask her first too.

No, I don’t know when I’m going to see her yet. I don’t want to pressure them.

No, I have to go now. Time for class.

My last message is a total lie, but I don’t care. I don’t know why Mom is stressing so much. It’s not her life, not her responsibility. She’s already in touch with Brittany and Clark and Olivia, and for her it makes no difference whether I’m there or not or how much I get involved. She still can’t accept that I have to do this my own way and that I want to do it right. Right for Olivia and right for me. Not for her.

“Is everything okay?”

I look up at John’s question. “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at your phone for ten minutes, and somehow you don’t look like you’re watching cat videos.” He smiles, but his eyes look serious.

“Sorry, I—” I stop because it’s just a stupid reflex to apologize. We weren’t even talking. I was just too focused on the message I wrote but didn’t send.

“Are you okay?”

I rub my temples. “It’s all a bit much right now,” I admit, because suddenly I don’t want to lie anymore.

“If you need to get away, I’m meeting some friends for a barbecue this weekend. You’re welcome to join us.”

At first I want to say no because I don’t have the energy for something like that. But then I catch myself nodding in agreement. I’ve been back in Boston for almost six months, and apart from my brother and mother, the only people I have contact with are the ones I see every day at work. I don’t have friends here anymore, and I haven’t made any effort to find new ones. But maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get out and clear my head a little. So I can stop thinking about Olivia and Isabel and Lia and every other damn problem.

“Sounds good. Thanks,” I say, and I mean it.

John smiles. “Sure thing.”

I look back down at my phone, at the unsent message, and my heart skips a beat when I see that Lia has beaten me to it. She wrote first.

Ophelia:

Can we talk?

I swallow. All at once my mouth is dry. My fingers fly over the screen.

Phoenix:

Yes. When?

Ophelia:

Do you have to go to rehearsal?

I only hesitate for a second before making a decision that I’ll probably regret if Francesca finds out that I’m not supporting John’s rehearsals with the juniors as I agreed to.

Phoenix:

Not today.

Ophelia: