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You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. Not with me.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head at me. “You don’t get it. You have no idea what it’s like being known as the kid whose mom has a drug problem that landed her in prison. Having the whole thing play out in the news so everyone at the school knows. Everyone.”

Prison? A drug problem?

“Tyler, it’s okay. I don’t care.”

“Look, you say that and I know you think you mean it and that it helps… but it doesn’t. I can already see you trying to figure the rest out. You do, you want to know. Everyone wants to know. That’s all you see now when you look at me.”

I hate that he’s a little bit right, but I know deep down he’s also wrong. There have to be plenty of people who see Tyler for who he is and not just whatever happened with his mom. “Don’t go. Please, Ty. I won’t say that I know what it’s like because I don’t, but—look, I don’t need to know any more. Whatever you want to talk about or don’t, that’s fine. Our unhappy families are different. You were right. Tolstoy was right. I guess Russians do know something besides how to rig the Olympics.”

Tyler cracks a smile there. If there’s one thing I learned from Kennedy, it’s that Russian figure-skating judges are not to be trusted.

“So can you come back inside?” I say. “We could watch something. Gilmore Girls?”

He takes a few steps toward me. “You’ve really never seen it?”

“Not even one episode. You can introduce me to it.”

“Where you lead, I will follow.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll understand in a few minutes. You’re going to love it, Em. You’re a good friend, you know?”

At some point I’ll have to tell him what really happened back home. I can’t let this feeling keep gnawing away at me. But for right now I just need to hear it. Like if I hear it enough, maybe it can be true again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

For the next few weeks, like clockwork, Tyler arrives at Delia’s house every weekday morning while I’m eating my breakfast. Some days we have a plan for what we’re going to do—like check out Goodwill to see if anything new and weird came in, or go to the library for a teen program (okay, mostly for the free pizza and so Tyler can get more books), or hang out at the town pool so we can spy on (I mean, maybe see) this boy Tyler has a crush on.

On the days when it’s too hot to bike anywhere, we crank up the AC in Delia’s basement and slowly devour a bag of Oreos while working on an art project and reading and binge-watching Gilmore Girls.

We both think Rory has the worst taste in guys and that Lane’s boyfriend Dave Rygalski is clearly the best boyfriend on the show. He read the whole entire Bible for her! Now, that’s commitment. (Tyler skipped ahead to show me that episode—we’re only on season two right now.)

I don’t ask Tyler more about his mom, and he doesn’t offer up any details, and that’s okay. Really.

On my third Saturday in Wyoming, I’m down in the basement sketching possible interiors for my Becca box when Delia sets a small white envelope on the table beside me. “Something came for you in the mail today.”

There’s no return address on the envelope, and for a second my heart starts palpitating like crazy. Could it be from Becca? But then I notice it’s postmarked Hyannis, Massachusetts. It’s from Austin!

I open it carefully, as if what’s inside is somehow delicate. A single lined sheet of paper, folded into thirds.

Hey Emma,

Thanks for sending me that postcard. I don’t really get much mail here. You can tell not a lot happens when people get all jazzed about mail. Just like you! You always got a little too excited about the mail.

Anyway. Sounds like you’re having fun in Wyoming, so that’s cool. And it’s nice to know they’re taking you on trips with them. Camping? For real? Aren’t you still afraid of the dark and moths? Remember that one time we went camping and you were too afraid to get up and pee in the night and you wet the bed—er, sleeping bag—and Mom thought that human pee actually lured bears so she made us throw out the sleeping bag and you had to share mine?

Yeah. That’s why we O’Malleys don’t do camping. Haha.

Still, Wyoming sounds cool. Especially the buffalo. I know you said you can’t pet them or you might get gored, but, I don’t know, seems like kind of an exciting way to go.

I’m kidding. Don’t get gored by a buffalo, Emma.

Take lots of pictures so you can show me all your adventures. I won’t be here that much longer. Really. I found out how much Mom and Dad are paying for this place and I almost died. So this might be your last vacation for a while.

All kidding aside, you asked how I’m doing. I’m doing good, Emma. Ugh. Well! I’m doing well. I want to stay clean. I really do. And I know a lot more now than I did before. I’m never touching that stuff again, I swear.

I’m sorry, Em. I’m so sorry about everything.

Say hi to the buffalo for me.

Love,

Austin

I must read it five times in a row before I finally set it down for a second. Tears well in my eyes. No one’s down here with me—Delia went upstairs right after dropping it off, almost like she knew I’d need a moment alone with it. But for some reason, I can’t let myself cry. I have to be strong, for Austin. I have to be strong, like Austin.

He doesn’t really say much about himself in the letter. But he says he’s doing well. Of course he is. He’s Austin. The old Austin knew all about working hard. It was what he did—in school, at

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