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you something special this year.” She widens her eyes and leans forward when she sees me stiffen. “She was at the dealership a couple of days ago. Talking to my father. You know, as they do. Just talking . . . about everything .”
    â€œI’m sure,” I say. My grandmother is good at small talk. I am picturing the Volvo showroom three towns away, my grandmother glancing around at the dumpy little cars and frowning because she has never understood why I liked them. Thinking about the coupon she’s probably already written out. That is sitting on the writing desk in her office.
    â€œShe didn’t tell me she was going to the dealer,” I say before I can stop myself.
    â€œWell, it’s a surprise, isn’t it?” Morgan says. “She tries to get you something surprising every year. Doesn’t she?”
    I stare at Morgan, her sharp little nose and her wide-set eyes and the smirk on her face, and glance over at Brandon and Jessica. What does Morgan know exactly?
    â€œThat’s how birthdays work,” I say slowly.
    Morgan glances away when Dr. Ellman claps her hands, and I breathe for the first time in what seems like minutes.
    Behind us Ace is arguing that butts could be an abstract quality instead of a concrete noun.
    â€œOkay, people,” Dr. Ellman says. “We’re just about done here. We’re going to stop, and we’re going to breathe through the chime, which is—” She pauses for a moment, then glances at her watch. “Well, almost now. In just a second. There it is,” she says as it chimes over her voice.
    Brandon stretches when he stands, and his shirt lifts, showing an expanse of his smooth skin. I’m not staring. Or I shouldn’t be, anyway.
    â€œNo more winks,” he says to me. He slides his arm around Morgan while she’s shuffling her papers into her bag and she is distracted by the way he looks down at her. They’re out the door ahead of me and Ace is at my elbow.
    â€œDid you enjoy chatting about your future with Morgan?” I ask.
    â€œDid you know that Morgan thinks she has no ‘best’ qualities because all of her qualities are equally superior?” he says.
    â€œYou’re joking,” I say.
    â€œYou’re exaggerating,” Jolene says, slightly scolding.
    I’m annoyed that something Morgan said actually amuses me.
    â€œIf only I were. But alas, Morgan keeps living up to our expectations.” He sweeps away ahead of us.
    Laura says, “Why is she so awful? I don’t understand why anyone would be so awful for no good reason. It’s like she takes awful pills and washes them down with awful juice and then rolls around in awfulness.”
    â€œShe doesn’t mean to be,” Jolene says. “She just is.”
    â€œShe was trying to scare me, I think,” I say. And I realize that’s exactly it, this feeling like gravity has stopped working inside me—fear. And a tiny flare of dread that I have worked hard to stomp out. That no one else is ever supposed to see.
    â€œScare you?” Jolene says. “With what?”
    I don’t answer.
    â€œThere’s nothing she can scare you with,” Laura says. “She’s being ridiculous. She’s being—”
    â€œAwful,” Jolene says.
    â€œRight,” I say.

CHAPTER 4
    W hen I break my third glass I wish it were magically time to go home, but I’m only thirty minutes into my shift. Usually I am not ready to go home until at least an hour’s worth of Early Bird Special customers have asked me for another basket of sourdough bread and then want to know how school is and tell me how big I’m getting and how they remember when I was just this tall and to say hello to my father and grandmother.
    Cap’n Bill’s is busy after school because our town is full of retired people who enjoy a deal on clam chowder, which I started to loathe after a month of working