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I was scared you’d gotten into trouble. Hey, do me a favor and delete the Calcul8 app every few days, okay? Then reinstall it.

Why?

That resets your screen time. I don’t want your parents asking why you’re suddenly on there so much.

My mouth curves upward, even if it shouldn’t. My father claimed he was being a good parent this morning when it was really just that he cared how it made him look.

Ford is telling me to do a bad, sneaky thing. Because he cares about how it makes me look.

If this is the choice Mary Joyce faced...no wonder she ran away.

Ford and I text all evening; we text during school the next day. Every time I get a notification from Calcul8, I’m smiling before I’ve even opened the app. Even at lunch, when I should be trying to play it cool.

FORD

I wish we could sit together.

ME

Me too.

He smiles at me then, while Alex continues discussing who he’ll room with at Northwestern. Even if we’re at separate tables, I feel closer to him than anyone here.

Kappy looks at me. “What’s going on over there, Felton?”

I flush. “Nothing.” And then my head raises and I find Ford’s gaze on me once more. I smile. I can’t seem to stop.

In the afternoon, Mr. Wheeler tells us we’re watching a movie in journalism and turns off the lights. Ford’s hand reaches under the table and takes mine. His thumb scrapes, rough against my soft palm. Tracing tiny circles.

I think of what happened in the library the entire time he does it. Him rasping Grace, you’re gonna make me come.

Holding his hand is delicious. It’s also no longer enough.

On Saturday, Kappy and I go to the mall. I, unfortunately, am forced to bring Faith with us. Kappy doesn’t seem to mind, but I do. Don’t my worlds already cross enough with my dad at my school? Can’t I have this one tiny place where they don’t cross again?

“Don’t bring up boys around her,” I say under my breath as we climb into the car.

I love Faith, but she’s eight, and the concept of keeping information to herself absolutely eludes her.

Faith clicks her seat belt and promptly demands that Kappy turn the music up. Then she realizes Kappy and I are whispering to each other and demands we turn the music off.

“Say please, Faith,” I command.

“Why?” she asks. “You already did it.”

Kappy laughs at this while I sigh in disgust. Maybe my mother was right about Faith losing something by coming here—it’s her manners and likeability.

When we get to the mall, I have to shout at Faith to stay near me through the parking lot. “I want a pretzel,” she says, and I can already tell that she will hold this entire venture hostage until she gets one. I picture her throwing herself on the ground, dead weight, while Kappy goes off to shop alone and I have to call my mother to get us.

“Do you mind if we swing by the food court?” I ask.

“Sure,” Kappy says absently, watching Faith skipping ahead of us through the mall doors with a distant look on her face. Maybe she does mind that I brought Faith, and who could blame her? I mind. Am I going to lose my friend group here just because my mother had to devise a new way to keep me in check?

“I’m really sorry about this,” I add, nodding toward my sister.

Kappy frowns. “Don’t both of your parents have blue eyes? I remember your mom’s...they’re startling, like yours. But your dad...aren’t his kind of grayish?”

I shrug. “Yeah. Why?”