“I’ll meet you in the lobby after,” Decker said as we prepared to head for separate testing rooms.

Janna came up to us and grabbed my arm. “Come with me,” she said. And then to Decker, “You can detach yourself now.”

When we were out of earshot, she said, “I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait until after?” I asked. I was trying to keep all the information fresh in my mind, replaying it over and over to myself until it burned an image into my brain.

“Whatever,” she said as we squeezed between the classroom door at the same time. She took a seat across the room from me.

I was the first to finish my exam, as always. I handed the booklet to my teacher and paced the halls until Decker finished his test, as always. Janna found me before Decker finished. “So, we’re friends, right?”

“Right,” I said.

But I must’ve hesitated a little too much, or else she was also mentally assessing just how friendly we actually were, because she added, “You kissed my brother. We’re practically related now.” Wicked grin, just like Carson’s.

I covered my face with my hands. “Can we maybe not talk about that?”

“Gladly.” Then she nodded once, as if solidifying our friendship. “But as your friend, I need to tell you something.”

I hoped her other acts of friendship wouldn’t be mortifying. “That guy on Saturday. You know him?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I didn’t. But now I do I guess.”

She stepped closer, totally invading my personal space, her hand on my arm again. I could feel the cold of her fingers through my shirt. “There wasn’t any article, Delaney.”

“What?” The snow turned to sleet, pelting the windows in the front lobby, echoing down the halls.

“The newspaper article about you. There wasn’t any. You know how I intern at The Ledger? It was my idea to write something up about you, but I couldn’t. Your parents didn’t give permission. And because of your age, we couldn’t print your name. So nothing ran. And if nothing ran in the local paper, nothing ran in the bigger ones.”

“Okay,” I said, desperately trying to process the information.

“He doesn’t know you from the paper,” she said again.

And then someone’s arms snaked around my shoulders and covered my eyes, and I jumped.

“God, Decker, you scared me to death,”

“Hyperbole,” he said, throwing an arm over my shoulders. “Remember that for your English exam.”

And then Carson popped in beside Janna. “You’re coming Friday, right?”

“I’ll try,” I said. Decker dropped his arm.

My parents were in high spirits that night. They’d been feeding me sleeping pills for three nights, and I’d been pretending to take them. They beamed at each other over the dinner table and asked me about exams, like everything was normal. They smiled at each other when I spoke, like they were extra proud of themselves. Like they believed they had successfully drugged the crazy right out of me. Like Unpredictable was a disease and they had cured it.

I had asked to go to the winter break party last year, too. Mom had launched into a tirade about underage drinking and the health risks associated with driving drunk on ice. Like maybe she would’ve stocked our car with alcohol if only we’d lived in Florida. As long as it wasn’t hurricane season.

I didn’t insult her intelligence by claiming there wouldn’t be alcohol or that I wouldn’t drink. My academic situation already predisposed me to the bottom of the social ladder. I wasn’t going to be the smart girl who refused to drink at a place that people only went to for drinking.

I asked with a forkful of buttery mashed potatoes in my mouth. I hoped that maybe they wouldn’t understand me and say okay to whatever they thought I was asking. In short, I was hoping for some serious miscommunication. My plan failed.

Mom stopped beaming. “We talked about this before,” she said. “And after all you’ve been through recently on top of all my previous reasons, which still stand, by the way . . .”

“You can go,” Dad said as he stabbed at a piece of steak.

Mom dropped her fork. “Kitchen. Now.” She spoke through her teeth. They really didn’t need to go to another room. It’s not like I couldn’t hear them through the thin door. And it’s not like they even pretended to whisper.

“It’s not safe.” Mom spoke each word in a staccato burst.

“The worst that can happen already happened, Joanne.”