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“You’re annoying,” she said.

“I know.” I scrolled to the number I hadn’t attached a name to yet.

His response to my text about his cryptic note read: If your brother had gotten to it first, I would’ve claimed wrong number. But considering how you acted at the town square yesterday, I figured cryptic was the only way.

So it was Ryan. That confirmed it. My heart seemed to think this confirmation was a good thing.

“How did you act at the town square yesterday?” Fiona whispered.

“I told him he was off-limits.”

I sent off a text: Your parents know we talk then?

Ryan didn’t respond. It had been forty-five minutes since his last text. Maybe he was asleep or unable to respond now.

“Call him,” Fiona said.

“Absolutely not. We don’t … we don’t know each other like that.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like knowing him enough to thrust a phone call on him.”

She laughed. “You thrust phone calls on me all the time.”

“That’s because I know your routines. I know when you eat dinner and when you sleep and when you—”

“If you say when I use the bathroom, I’m going to scream,” Fiona said.

“I was going to say shower.”

“You think too much,” Fiona said.

“Yes, I do. It’s what makes me thoughtful.”

She laughed but also squeezed my hand, letting me know she agreed.

“There’s your sister,” I said.

“Nova!” Fiona called. “You were so good!”

Nova was still wearing her costume—green robes and a wreath on her head. “Thank you for coming.” She gave us each a hug. “I was so nervous.”

“You didn’t seem nervous,” I said.

“Opening weekend is always the scariest.”

“You were great,” Fiona said.

“Do you want to go get something to eat? I’m starving,” Nova said.

Fiona looked at me.

I nodded. “I can’t go back to my neighborhood for at least another hour anyway.”

“I’m glad our neighborhood isn’t as bad as yours,” Nova said.

“I think you mean good,” I said.