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prank. The week passes, and turns into the next, and one after that, too, and soon it feels like our stolen afternoon was a dream, some out-of-body experience.
    Until Elise finds me weeping in the second-floor girls’ bathroom one afternoon, three days before spring break.
    “Anna?”
    I jolt at the voice, spinning around in panic. I got a hall pass from French because I couldn’t make it to final bell. Did someone follow me out?
    “Hey, it’s okay, it’s only me.” Elise shuts the door behind her and moves closer. She looks just the same, with her neat ponytail and blazer decorated with merit pins. I back away instinctively. “Anna? Anna, what’s wrong?”
    I still can’t speak, the tears I’ve held back all day forcing themselves from my body in great noisy sobs. These aren’t delicate tears; these are wretched and angry, and it’s all I can do to fall against the wall and slide to the ground, my shoulders heaving, my whole torso racked with pain.
    Elise crouches on the floor beside me and tries to take my hands, but I shrink away. I hate that she’s seeing this. I hate that I fell apart at all.
    “Please,” I manage, my voice hoarse and cracked. “Just go!”
    “Shhh.” She gets up, and for a moment I think she’s going to leave, but it’s only to grab a handful of tissue from one of the stalls. She sits back down beside me on the hard tile floor. “Was it Lindsay? Did she do something? I told her not to, but . . .”
    Lindsay? I try to laugh, but it comes out as a garbled squark through my tears. I shake my head. “No, it’s not . . . it’s not that.”
    Elise waits, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles, and eventually—long minutes later—my sobs fade away, leaving nothing but exhaustion and the familiar dull throb of a headache in their place.
    “Here.” She wets a paper towel and dabs at my face. I try to duck away again, but she rolls her eyes. “Trust me. That mascara isn’t waterproof.” I quit struggling and let her pull me back together; blotting my red eyes, smoothing back my tangled hair,until there’s nothing left to do, just silence between us in the empty bathroom.
    “I’m sorry,” Elise offers finally. Her voice is soft, fearful. “I know I shouldn’t have ditched you like that, but—”
    “You think this is about you?” I have to laugh again, harsher this time. “You’re not . . .” I stop, trying to find the words, but there are none. “The world is bigger than high school,” I bite out at last.
    She waits.
    “You can go back now.” I take a deep breath, willing my pulse to slow. “I’m fine.”
    Elise doesn’t move.
    “I mean it.” I wipe my face again, blow my nose. “I’m good, see?” I force a smile. “It’s nothing.”
    “Bullshit.” Elise’s voice is low but clear. “Come on, Anna. Talk to me.”
    She takes my hands again, forcing me to meet her gaze. I take another breath, ready to brush away her concern with some flippant comment or sarcastic crack, but instead, the words slip out of my mouth, unbidden.
    “The cancer’s back. My mom . . .” And then my voice breaks, and I collapse into tears again.
    “Oh, Anna . . .” Elise pulls me closer. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think—”
    The bell goes off, but we don’t move until the door swingsopen and a rush of sound slips in from outside. “You can’t even ask him.” A familiar voice is midsentence. “I mean, he was—” The voice stops. “Um, hello?”
    We look up to find Lindsay and a cluster of other girls in the doorway, looking down at us with matching expressions of disdain. “Elise?” Lindsay frowns. “What are you doing?”
    “Find another bathroom, okay?” Elise doesn’t loosen her grip on me. “We’re busy.”
    “I can see.” Lindsay’s voice drips with sarcasm. “You guys sure look cozy.”
    Elise turns away from her, and back to me. “You think you can get up?”
    I nod, wordless.
    “Aww, did someone hurt your feelings?” Lindsay