“Sweetie, you know I love you just the way you are, but I always want the best for you. That’s why you’re going to Daisy Ranch this summer. I already put the application in the mail.”

“Mom! That was for me to fill out.”

“Oh, don’t pretend like you’re the only one who can sneak around in this family.”

I stand up and yank my keys off the counter. “I’m not going back to Daisy Ranch. I’m going to broadcast journalism camp. And you wanna know what else? I have a boyfriend. His name is Malik. And we kiss. With. Our. Tongues.” I feel my cheeks growing flushed with embarrassment, but that doesn’t stop me from storming off.

When I get to the gym, I push through the front door and plop down on my stool behind the counter without even stopping to say hi to Callie.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she says. “What’s your deal?”

“I told my mom,” I say. “About this summer. And Malik. And making out with Malik.”

“And I’m guessing it did not go well?”

I close my eyes and breathe in and out through my nose, trying to calm myself. I shake my head after a moment. “It was just about as disastrous as you can imagine.”

She throws an arm over my shoulders. “God, I’m sorry, Millie.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “Because last night Malik and I DTRed.”

“DTR?” she asks. “Is that like something between first and second base?”

I laugh. “No, we defined the relationship.”

“Ohhhhh. So I guess that means you’re someone’s girlfriend?”

“Not just any someone.” But instead of excitement, a cloud of disappointment hangs over me as I remember my mom’s reaction this morning. “What about you and Mitch?” I ask. “I didn’t want to make a big deal when I saw you guys at the movie theater last night, but OH MY GOSH! Your mom let you out of the house.”

“Ugh. Finally!” she says, spinning toward me so that our knees brush against each other. “It was my first night returning to civilization in like two months now.”

“And you looked amazing in that yellow romper,” I tell her. Malik and I ran into them in between shows, and Callie wore this dreamy yellow lace romper with her long hair down and curled at the ends. She was a vision. She and Mitch walked with her arm looped through his, and it was maybe the cutest thing ever. “Did you guys kiss finally? Like, on the lips?”

She grins devilishly. “Not yet. I’m thinking next week.”

“No shame in making him wait,” I say.

The bell above the door dings, and I open my mouth to recite my greeting, but it’s only Uncle Vernon. And then Sheriff Bell a few feet behind him.

“Hey?” I don’t bother to hide my surprise. “What are you doing here on a Saturday?”

Vernon winks at me. “Just some business to attend to.”

“Callie,” says Sheriff Bell. “You mind following us back to the office?”

“Surely I’m not in trouble,” she says. “I’ve been way too grounded to do anything interesting.”

Sheriff Bell chuckles. “I don’t think there’s much more trouble left for you to get in.”

I grab Callie’s wrist as she stands up.

“It’s okay,” she whispers.

Nodding, I let go. It’s probably just about her paying off the damage. Maybe she’s all done working? I could talk to Inga and Vernon about actually hiring her part-time. I wouldn’t even mind taking a pay cut.

I smile to myself as Vernon shuts the office door behind them. Callie and I are friends now. Almost best friends, I’d say. We don’t have to work together for us to keep seeing each other. My mom might be unhappy with me, but I have an amazing boyfriend—I! Have! A! Boyfriend!—and a group of friends who could hang out with the best of the best girl squads around.

I just have to stay positive. It’s like one of my mom’s crocheted pillows says: GLASS HALF FULL, GLASS HALF EMPTY. BE THANKFUL YOU’VE GOT A GLASS AT ALL.

Callie

Thirty

Sheriff Bell takes the seat behind the desk while Vernon shuts the door, then leans against a particularly precariously stacked pile of boxes.

I’ve got that achy-pit-of-my-stomach kind of feeling I had the moment I saw Sheriff Bell standing in my kitchen a few months back, the day this whole mess started.

“Have a seat,” says Vernon.

“Am I somehow in more trouble?” I ask as I move the stack of binders from the chair opposite the desk and sit down. “I swear to God I’ve been living like a freaking nun since I started working here.” A few memories pop into my head. Specifically of Melissa. And the main hall of the school covered in green paper. “Well, mostly.”

Sheriff Bell laughs, but it comes out like more of a grunt. “Not this time.”

Vernon coughs into his fist. “Inga did the, uh, math, and it looks like if we were paying you the same wage we pay Millie, you’d have paid off the insurance deductible by now and whatever damage they didn’t cover.”

“Okay?” Cautious optimism tingles in my toes. “So what does that mean for me?”

“Well,” says Sheriff Bell, “you’re a free woman.”

“We’re not pressing charges,” confirms Vernon.

“So my life is back to normal?” I ask, totally unable to conceal my excitement.

Sheriff Bell purses his lips together, which I think is his version of a smile. “The school board decision to ban you from the Shamrocks still stands, so you won’t be able to rejoin for your senior year, but other than that, your time is your own.”

I jump up and squeal. “As of, like, right now?”

Vernon nods. “Well, in about ten minutes, so yeah.” He whips out a paper. “I just need you to sign this, saying you understand that you were not compensated for your work and that your labor was in exchange for the insurance deductible and miscellaneous damages.”

I’m signing on the dotted line before he can barely finish his sentence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” says Vernon.

“You didn’t really need my help around here, did you?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You could say business is slow.”

“So why’d you agree to this? It’s not like you were saving money on labor you didn’t even need.”

Vernon shrugs. “There were a lot of you. Didn’t seem right for just one of you to carry it on your record. Guess I wish someone would’ve given me a second chance at that age.”

“Hell,” says Sheriff Bell, “if it weren’t for your Millie’s sharp eye, we wouldn’t have caught any of you.”

I snap my head toward him just like our dog Shipley does when she hears the crackling sound of my mama cooking bacon. “Excuse me?”

“Slip of the tongue,” he says. “Don’t you worry about it, girly.”

Girly. The word is like a hot coal on a fading fire. It stokes the anger that’s always rumbling inside me, even when it’s only a low murmur.

I follow Vernon and Sheriff Bell out of the office, and the two of them head straight for the front door.

“Callie,” says Vernon, “just leave your name tag with Millie.”

Before the door can even shut all the way, Millie turns to me with that deer-in-headlights panicked look. “You’re leaving?”

Suddenly I don’t buy it. I don’t buy any of this afterschool-special friendship bullshit she’s been selling.

“You.” I say. I don’t even have all the details or the facts, but I know Millie well enough to know that she’ll spill the moment she knows her secret’s out. “You’re the reason I’m off the dance team. And why I’m stuck working in this body-odor hellhole. And why Bryce broke up with me! I humiliated Melissa! And Sam! And most of the team! Do you remember that? And you let me do that. You didn’t even tell me that you were the one who knew it was me after I spilled all their secrets. I . . . I . . .” Suddenly the weight of exactly what I did to the Shamrocks hits me. “My mama is never going to forgive me for that, Millie. I violated her trust. All their trust!”