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me.”
    Rainer sighs. “You shouldn’t have to be screamed at every day.”
    I drop my bag on the floor and slump against the counter. My condo has two bedrooms and a full kitchen. It’s almost as big as my house back in Portland, and at one time six people lived in that thing. “I really wish you hadn’t done that,” I say.
    “C’mon,” Rainer says. “I got your back. We’re in this together, kid.”
    I look at him as he leans casually against the cool marble, his arms crossed. He looks sophisticated, handsome, and self-assured. Like the world’s never really given him a reason to not assume he could win.
    “Thanks,” I say. “But don’t big-brother me to Wyatt.”
    “Big brother?” Rainer smirks at me, and I feel myself blush. “Hey, you want to grab dinner?” he asks, switching gears.
    “I’m not all that hungry.”
    “Come on, you need to eat. What have you had today?” He uncrosses his arms, and some of his blond hair swings down onto his forehead. It’s familiar, which is strange, until I remember it’s the exact same pose he’sstriking in a poster Cassandra has on the back of her bedroom door.
    My life is so weird.
    “Okay, let me go change.”
    I hear him whistling in the next room, the tune of something I recognize but can’t remember the name of. I think it’s a Britney song. The one about summer love that played on repeat from April until August last year. Even I knew every word by heart. Maybe they are dating.
    I yank open the dresser, and the photo sitting on top of it falls. It’s a picture Jake gave me before I left—of him, Cassandra, and me from last summer. We’re standing in front of Delmano’s ice cream shop, chocolate and silly grins on our faces. I pick up the photo and place it in the drawer. I feel a sweeping sensation of guilt—for not calling more, for leaving. I think about the two of them in class, trolling around downtown on the weekends. All without me.
    I choose a white tank top and a floral-print skirt I’ve had since sixth grade. I never wear it but figured it might be good for Hawaii.
    I got my signing check last month, and it took me until last week to deposit it. I was scared, to be honest. The reality of those numbers is bigger than just money. It means something I don’t totally understand yet. It’s more money than anyone in my family has ever made before, combinedand multiplied by ten. It makes me feel powerful, but not in a good way, necessarily. Kind of like Godzilla, who outgrew his family. Like I won’t fit in my own house anymore.
    Before I left I offered the money to my parents, but they refused. My dad actually left the room after I told them. My mother told me never to bring it up again, that I’m earning it and it’s mine to keep.
    But what do I do with it?
    So far I’ve paid some lawyers and things like that. I gave my mom a check for the women’s shelter she volunteers at. That she took. But I haven’t gone shopping. I haven’t bought myself a bag. Or shoes. Or a car. Maui doesn’t have very many shopping destinations, besides this little center behind our condo, and even if it did I’d probably like the same things I’ve always liked—jeans and tank tops.
    Maybe I’ll fly Jake and Cassandra to set. She’d like that, I think.
    “You look great,” Rainer says when I reappear. He flashes me a smile.
    I snort because despite the winning combination of my kiddie skirt and sand-infused hair, I’m pretty sure he’s joking.
    “Where should we go?” he says.
    “Longhi’s?”
    The bottom level of the shopping center nearby hasthis Italian restaurant. We order from there just about every day for lunch, but their pasta is good, and the restaurant is open-air, so you can hear the ocean. Not that you can’t hear the ocean from, you know, my living room, but it’s still nice.
    “Sounds good,” Rainer says.
    When we get to Longhi’s, Rainer flashes his signature golden smile at the hostess, and she shows us to a table right at