“Uh,” I say.
But Lila covers smooth as silk. “She’s got the smartest plan to get people to bring in their old newspapers and magazines. Extra credit! Provided we can get the teacher to agree.”
“That is sneaky.” But from Aunt Gabby’s tone, she approves, so I’m clear. “Are you staying for dinner, Lila?”
“If you don’t mind. We’ll feed Sage tomorrow night.”
“Sounds good. Just let me change and then I’ll dish up the soup.”
“I can do it,” I offer, dropping my math notebook.
“Thanks.” Aunt Gabby heads down the hall to her bedroom.
I jump up and hurry to the kitchen and get three bowls. Lila follows, looking bemused. “She doesn’t seem like the type to beat you if you aren’t super efficient, super helpful, all the time.”
There are so many things I could say, but I don’t offer anything honest. I hate myself for it, too. “Isn’t this exactly how you pictured the Post-it Princess acting at home?”
“Yeah. But now I’m starting to wonder if that’s the real you.”
Lucky for me, my aunt comes in before Lila can say more or I’m forced to acknowledge or deny her insight. Dinner passes quietly, and half an hour later, Lila’s mom comes to pick her up. I think she just wants to get a look at Aunt Gabby and me, so we come to the front door to wave as she backs out of the drive.
“I’m glad you’re having people over and making friends other than Ryan. Lila seems nice.”
“She is,” I agree.
“What’s going on with Ryan, by the way? He didn’t seem to be brokenhearted when he was here on Sunday.”
I shrug. “You’re asking the wrong person. I don’t know if he’s moved on, or if he’s covering his feels better.”
“Talk to him,” Aunt Gabby advises.
“I’ll text him now.”
After washing the dinner dishes, I carry my backpack to my room and close the door. My aunt respects my privacy; she doesn’t rummage in my stuff, but a closed door is comforting. It says, This is my space, and you can’t come in unless I let you. I also know how fragile that barrier can be.
I get out my phone and send, im ready to talk.
A few minutes later, he replies. We ok?
Yep. I forgive you.
I don’t know if that’s enough to patch the rips in our friendship but it feels like a beginning. That night, I fall asleep feeling pretty good, and there are no bad dreams.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dinner with Lila’s family goes well, though I’ve never seen so many chicken-fried foods in my life. Mrs. Tremaine seems to think that if she fries it enough, it’s not meat anymore. But the mashed potatoes are delicious and I rearrange the beef on my plate enough to make it look like I’m enjoying it. If Lila told her I’m a vegetarian, she doesn’t care, and that’s a Midwestern attitude. People seem to think if they offer meat often enough, you’ll be seduced by your salivary glands or something.
“So, Sage,” Mr. Tremaine asks. “What does your future look like? It’s never too soon to start planning.” He aims a pointed look at Lila, who sighs.
“There’s a college in Maine that looks right for me.”
“What do you plan to study?” Mrs. Tremaine asks.
“Adventure-based education.”
I can see they have no idea what I’m talking about, so I try to explain, and now Mr. Tremaine is frowning. “That sounds like you want to be a camp counselor.”
“Dad,” Lila protests.
“It’s okay.” For the rest of the meal, I clarify the difference—and about how we can change the world if people are taught young about conservation, green practices, and natural resources when they’re young.
Mr. Tremaine gives a grudging nod. “That’s true. If there had been a program like that at school when we were growing up, it wouldn’t have taken us so long to start recycling.”
“Exactly.”