The next couple of days passed in a blur of 2 a.m. TV marathons and sporatic two-hour long naps. Only once or twice, while I was waiting to doze off, did I think about Emelia sitting alone in her dark house.

Another weekend passed and I was back in homeroom. When I entered, Mr. Gibbs looked up from his book. I shifted my eyes away before we made eye contact and took long strides to the back of the classroom.

A teacher’s attention has never been beneficial to me. Even if you’re positive they don’t see you using your phone under the desk, all the other options are just as grim. An extra assignment? Some help needed because “you’re such a good student” and “I knew your father in high school”? If you were lucky, it was a scolding for not paying attention—a slap on the wrist, you’re free to go.

Curse you small town, with your small schools, and your bored teachers with too much time on their hands. I was only able to avoid him until the end of the day. When he saw me coming the opposite direction in the hall, he waved. “Ms. Townsend, how was your weekend?”

I nodded and said something vague like, “It was good.” I didn’t stop walking. I wasn’t trying to hide anything, but I tended to forget about my crimes until they were discovered. I wasn’t taking chances.

He turned. “Actually, I was hoping to speak with you for a minute.”

Not getting away, then. “Something wrong?”

“Not exactly, no.” He looked down. I couldn’t imagine listening to him during a whole class period. I wasn’t looking forward to senior year. “I happened to hear you talking about one of my students with Ms. James in the hall yesterday.”

I was thrown by Allison being referred to with such polite terms as “Ms. James.” It took a moment before my heart kicked into a higher gear. Like I said, I tend to forget my crimes. Be calm. He doesn’t know anything. “Oh, you mean about that Miya girl or whatever her name is?”

“Emelia, yes. I think I heard you say you were visiting her?”

“Yeah, we knocked on her door.”

He waited. It was a matter of time until someone in authority found out what was going on with Emelia. What I did would change nothing.

“No one answered the door, but a neighbor told us no one lived there,” I said.

“I see. Yes, her mother withdrew her from school in order to move last month.” He smiled. “I hope that helps. Please tell your dad I said hello.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Sure.”

When he stepped past me, it revealed Allison, doing her best Cheshire grin. The scowl I was forming melted into a deep sigh. Fuck.

She took two hops to my side. “So… I thought you were going to tell.”

I shrugged and started walking. “I didn’t lie.”

“You do care.”

“Care? It would be better for her if I did tell. It was just a whim.”

There’s also my flourishing need to defy authority. Especially cowards who pander to my father.

“Justify yourself however you need.” She took a few quick steps to catch up with me. “So, Emelia’s mother must have known she was going to leave. What happened?”

“Beats me.”

“Well, I guess we can ask her when we get there.”

“You’re going back? Why?” I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. She obsessively pursues something until it’s deemed boring.

“We are. I wanted to bring her food. She was so thin.” She held up a grocery bag with plastic containers inside.

“If it’s your cooking, it doesn’t qualify as a healthy alternative.”

She kicked a leg toward my shin. “It’s my aunt’s.”

“I see. Well, have fun.”

“I can’t go alone! What if she attacks me?”

I coughed out a surprised laugh. “You did get a good look at her, right? I’m more concerned about you attacking her.”

She cackled. “Well, either way, you have to protect someone.”

We reached the bike rack outside. In fifteen minutes I could be home where I would go up to my room and watch videos on my phone until bedtime. I would wake up, trudge back up the hill to school, and fight to keep my eyes open again. The parents would be home early today, too. Anything would be an excuse to delay going home. Plus, nothing bores Allison faster than compliance.

Then there was also a feeling I kept getting. It was like an itch at the back of my brain. If I went back once, maybe it would go away.

“It takes too long,” I groaned, as one last attempt to resist my captor.

“Don’t worry. Last time I didn’t know the area well. I have an idea for a shortcut.”

She definitely expected me not to tell anyone! My fighting spirit left me as I turned my bike up the hill that led back to Emelia’s house. I could feel Allison’s satisfied smile radiating from behind me.

We cut through a grassy hill instead of winding through the streets. Even though Allison pointed at random shops along the way and said we needed to go, it did take less time. We left our bikes in a group of trees at the corner of the street, just in case more neighbors jogging by might feel a duty to report suspicious activity.

Allison dusted off imaginary dirt. “What did I tell you? No time. Let’s go around back again. She won’t answer the door anyway.”

The backdoor was unlocked, like last time. The pile of furniture was still at the front entrance, but it wasn’t pushed back where it was before we moved it. This time, we found Emelia standing in the living room. She must have heard us coming, because she looked surprised, but not startled.

“Hey, did you know your door has been unlocked?” I asked to avoid awkward greetings.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” She placed a gentle hand on the side of her neck. Every movement she took looked like some kind of apology. “My uncle Cole saw that it was jamming so he took it apart and still hasn’t put it back together. He does that a lot.’

“Classic.” Allison held out a plastic bag from her backpack. “We brought something for you.”

“What?” The way Emelia reached out her hand—every muscle a product of conscious thought. I lived three lifetimes waiting for the moment to pass. When she opened the bag, I could see the fight between her mind politely declining and her body wanting to accept. She finally settled on, “Thank you.”

“No problem. I brought enough for us to eat together.”

We were going to eat here too? I thought it would be a simple drop-off-and-leave. Clearly the girl didn’t want us here.

That is what I thought, but before I could protest, I caught Emelia’s expression. Her eyes widened and her mouth turned upward in what was not quite a smile yet. So being fine with being alone is just big talk, huh?

Emelia said it was okay and Allison clapped her hands together. “Great! We just came from school. Riding bikes really takes it out of you.”

“You rode your bikes all the way from school?” she asked.

“Yep, ‘cause I’m a nice person.”

I don’t get enough credit for how often I resist laughing.

“Please, sit down,” she said.

I watched as Emelia stumbled in her haste to get water in the kitchen for us. So the electricity and water still worked. After she handed us the glasses, I watched her fingers grip the side of her jeans, then touch the back of a chair, then opposite elbows before finally sitting down. The jittery movements were exhausting to watch. I don’t know where she found the energy.

I had the privilege to have Allison’s aunt’s food back before the murderous intent settled in. I forgot how good it was.

“You are a really good cook,” Emelia said. I could almost see the stars in her eyes.

This time I couldn’t resist laughing, which almost sent me choking on some noodles. You can’t win them all. “If you ever even saw her cooking, it would scare you out of ever accepting anything from her again.”

She looked to Allison with a question. After glaring at me, Allison said, “It’s my aunt’s. She’s been cooking for me since I was little. Dani likes to make fun of me because I haven’t had much cooking experience.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” She was giving a baseless compliment to be polite. So I refrained from scoffing.

“Thanks for the encouragement. Maybe I’ll make you something next time!”

“Next time?” Her eyebrow creased. “I do not understand. When I heard someone at the back door, I thought it was because you told someone about me.”

“Well, lucky for you, Dani is a nice girl, too. She won’t tell anyone.” She put a hand on the table near hers. “What nice pals you’ve found yourself.”

When she looked to me, hope so clear on her face, I was irritated. Just because I didn’t tell anyone today, doesn’t mean I won’t ever. She shouldn’t look at me like I just saved her. It was an impulse. I changed the subject. “Wait, hasn’t anyone come looking for you before?”

“A couple weeks ago, someone knocked on the door, but I don’t know why. I hid in the closet like I did when you came,” she said.

“She just left one day? No explanation?”

“She said she’d be back for me.” Her voice took an edge that didn’t match her nervous fidgeting. A tool to fight reality. “I’m sure she was in a hurry or she would have taken me along.”

Allison and I exchanged looks. She had enough time to withdraw her from school. Allison shook her head. If she was showing discretion for once, I couldn’t argue.

“What are you going to do if your house gets foreclosed?” I asked. Someone here needs to be aware of the situation.

“Well, it actually belongs to Uncle Cole. He just let us stay here.”

“Then why don’t you go live with your uncle?” Allison asked.

“He lives about an hour away and he might not let me return when Mom comes back.”

(“When,” not “if.”)

“I like your determination!” Allison thrust a thumbs-up in her direction.

Her fidgeting increased. Really, there’s no reason to be affected by her words.

“I guess I get it from my mother,” she said.

From her mother, huh. If she was fine abandoning her daughter, maybe Emelia was better off without her. Living alone sounded like paradise.

Allison kept looking at me. I ignored her and we finished eating in relative silence. She stood and announced with a dramatic sigh that her aunt expected her home early tonight. Emelia stood and thanked her, hands folded in front. Watching her made me suddenly aware of my own hands. Where do they go?

“No problem, I’ll let my aunt know she has a fan.” Allison pointed a finger at her. “You have to take care of yourself. Do you even eat?”

She nodded. “My mother has not been gone that long. There is still food here and I had an allowance to go out. Do not worry about me, please.”

You may say that, but someone is already starting the fan club for Operation Rescue the Endangered Emelia, I thought. Of course, her money would run out eventually. Can’t eat optimism, as my dad says.

We said goodbye and headed out like the first time, except I had no reason to return this time. She wasn’t going to starve or get thrown out of her house. My conscience was satisfied, as well as my curiosity. That was the end of it—rather, that should have been the end of it.