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sunglasses. I can’t tell if either of them is even looking at me while they eat.
    “I moved here last October.”
    Last October feels like two years ago.
    Make that two lifetimes ago.
    “From where?”
    “Libertyville. A suburb of Chicago.”
    She finishes a fry and then sips her soda. “I absolutely love Chicago.”
    So here’s my chance. To ask her what her story is.
    Yet I just can’t.
    “Why’d you move?” Lily asks.
    “My parents divorced.”
    “You kidding?”
    I shake my head.
    “Same here.”
    “Really?” I ask, genuinely surprised.
    “Who’d you move with?”
    “My mom.”
    “Same here! What—was your old man cheating?”
    “Uh, no.”
    “Mine was. What a nightmare. It just proves that it doesn’t matter who it is. If it’s a guy, then it can happen. Right, Harris?”
    “We’re all pigs,” Harris jokes.
    “You are.” She picks up one of the ten napkins around his plate and flings it in his direction.
    I don’t want to tell her that my parents’ divorce was due to God and not because of breaking one of His commandments.
    “Where’d you move from?” I ask.
    “Just like you—a suburb. Dunwoody. North of Atlanta.”
    The obvious question on the tip of my tongue is—
    “So you’re wondering why in the world Solitary. Right?”
    “Nobody moves to Solitary,” Harris says. “Then Chris comes along. And now you.”
    “Why’d you move here?” Lily asks.
    “My mom grew up around here. And my uncle—he used to live here.”
    “Ah, family then,” Lily says. “We’re sorta the same. Well, kinda. My mother’s mother had a place here. She recently passed and left it to us. After everything happened back home—my mom just wanted to split.”
    “Sounds familiar,” I say.
    “You guys should start some kind of recovery group,” Harris says.
    “Hey—shut up,” Lily jokes. “Divorce isn’t funny.”
    Harris nods. “Especially when you have to move to this place.”
    “How was your first year at the school?” Lily asks.
    I seriously almost choke on a bite of my burger. I finally swallow and am not sure how to answer her.
    I mean, could things have possibly gone any worse?
    “That bad?” she asks with a laugh.
    “Wasn’t that good.”
    “Great,” she says. “You guys sure know how to make a girl feel welcome. Especially after she buys you lunch.”
    “What do you want us to say?” Harris asks. “We’re just being honest.”
    “Gee—I can’t wait for school to start!” Lily exaggerates.
    I wish I could see her eyes. They really do tell a lot about somebody. And I just want to see them in order to get some idea, some hint of who she might really be. Right now she’s like the sun above us. Bright and cheery and carefree.
    I want to tell her things about this town.
    “Maybe my mom will decide that she can’t take any more and move us back to Atlanta.”
    Maybe it’s from her good looks or maybe it’s from where she grew up, but Lily carries a confidence that’s surprising even for someone like her. It’s not like she’s talking down to Harris and me. But she definitely controls the conversation and the tone and, well, basically everything about us sitting here.
    And you like that, don’t you?
    Coming from a house where my mom controls nothing—absolutely nothing—the feeling of having someone in control is kinda welcome.
    Especially if that someone is someone like Lily.
    “I gather that the two of you aren’t exactly typical Harrington High boys, are you?”
    “Oh, no, it’s almost seventy-five percent black,” Harris jokes. “Right, Chris?”
    “Yeah, sure. And everybody loves alternative music.”
    My joke is definitely the weaker of the two. But Lily smiles at both of us, the two boys sitting at her table.
    “I’m expecting both of you to show me around when school begins. Deal?”
    Harris and I both nod. I’m pretty confident both of us are more than happy to show Lily around. At least I am.

15. Bad Romance
     
    That night, I find myself in