I stormed onto the bleachers, tunnel-visioned with fury from my conversation with Jonah.

“Camilla!”

I looked up to see Marcie Power and Finn Jackson waving at me. They were friends from my English lit class, and they smiled in a friendly way.

“Come sit with us!” Finn called, waving me toward them.

Grateful to have somewhere to sit that wasn’t anywhere near Jonah, I slid down the row and dropped into the seat next to Marcie.

I hung out with Marcie and Finn for the rest of Spirit Day, studiously avoiding even looking in Jonah’s direction. If they noticed I was being weird, they were kind enough not to mention it.

I was trying to enjoy the day, but it was hard not to think about what Jonah had said. I didn’t understand the whole conversation—or any of his hang-ups. He knew how much I liked Eric. Why couldn’t he just be happy for me?

It felt as though it lasted a month, but when the school day was finally over, I headed to my locker, grabbed my calculus book, and trudged out of the building. I wasn’t about to ask Jonah for a ride anywhere, so I headed for the bus, which would take me to the heart of Provincetown. Alone.

I stood waiting at the bus stop, trying not to think of Jonah and his warnings about Eric. I wasn’t going to let him ruin this for me. I just wasn’t.

Looking down the street, I had just spotted the bus in the distance when I felt my phone vibrate with a text.

I pulled it from my backpack and looked at it, surprised to see Eric Evans—Editor pop up on my screen.

Can’t wait to see you at the cookout tomorrow.

And just like that, all my frustration and anger from the day drained away. I smiled down at my phone like an idiot, feeling my cheeks flush.

Same, I texted back.

Hey, I wanted you to be the first to know, he went on. I just made my recommendation to Ms. Torres about who should replace me as editor.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked down, watching as the bubbles appeared and disappeared, indicating Eric was writing something.

I recommended you.

I gasped and clapped my hand over my mouth. “Oh my god,” I breathed against my palm.

I felt…elated. Like my feet were going to lift off the ground at any moment. I couldn’t believe this was happening—everything I’d wanted for so long, and it was finally all happening. All at once.

For a moment I felt completely amazing, and then Jonah’s voice drifted into my head:

I’ve heard he’s kind of a dick.

The memory of Jonah’s caution felt like being splashed with a bucket of cold water.

The bus pulled up in front of me, and—frowning—I climbed aboard.

***

I was still thinking over everything that had happened with Jonah—and with Eric—as I walked into the house, but I looked up in surprise when I saw my mom at the dining room table. She was poring over a stack of books—which wouldn’t have been a remotely strange thing for her to do. She was always caught up in some kind of research project or another. But what was surprising was the large pile of bones she had heaped on the table next to her, all settled on a striped beach towel, so the bones weren’t actually touching the wood of the table that we ate Thanksgiving dinner on.

She was flipping through her books as she studied one bone in particular, clearly in the process of identification.

“Hey, Camilla,” she said, smiling vaguely in my direction before looking back down at her work. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

“Oh, it was…okay,” I admitted. “But something did happen—Eric Evans asked me out!”

My mom didn’t look up. “That’s great, sweetheart. Did you get your calculus grade?”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, I…did.”

She finally met my eyes. “And?”

“And…it wasn’t great.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, putting the bone down.

“I’m…failing—”

“Camilla!”

“I know, I know,” I said, putting up my hands to forestall a lecture. “But I went in to ask for some extra credit, and Mr. Moss said I could retake the final next Tuesday, which is seventy percent of my grade. And if I can do well on it, then I’ll be fine.”

My mom looked stressed. She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. “Well, that’s not ideal, is it?”

“It’s better than nothing,” I pointed out.

She sighed. “I suppose it is. When do you have plans with Eric?”

“Tomorrow,” I said brightly, smiling again. “We’re going to the cookout.”

My mom frowned. “No, sweetheart, I don’t think so.”

I frowned back at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t think you should go,” she said calmly. “I think you should stay home and study for that final.”