She has been completely out of touch. She assumed he would try to contact her, yet her phone shows nothing. Did he go to the Jetties to see G. Love with Emma? Emma complained of a headache at noon on Sunday, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t rally for a big rager on Sunday night.

Maybe Teddy lost his phone privileges as well. Maybe Uncle Graham finally went to the library and checked out a parenting manual. But somehow Ainsley doesn’t think so. Teddy didn’t do anything wrong except spend his date money on vodka. Maybe Teddy’s mother showed up, fresh out of Brookhaven Hospital in Tulsa, and took Teddy back to Oklahoma with her. This is what would happen in a Charles Dickens novel; Ainsley has been paying enough attention in English class to know this much.

Ainsley calls Teddy. When he answers, he sounds weary. “Hey, Ainsley.”

“Teddy?” she says. “My mom sunk my phone on Saturday night, which is why I haven’t called. And then we found out on Sunday morning that my grandfather died, but I still had no way to reach you. I missed school today because we went to the memorial reception on the Vineyard. I just got back, and my new phone was here, so that’s good news, but the bad news is that my grandmother got drunk at the reception and fell down. An ambulance came, and now she and my mother are at the hospital. I’m here alone.” She swallows. “Can you come over?” She’s asking not because she wants to have sex but rather because she could really use some companionship, a friend. Her mother doesn’t want her at the hospital, and can Ainsley blame her? On the ferry, Ainsley told Tabitha she hated her. “Please, Teddy?”

“Ainsley,” Teddy says. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Ainsley understands how her mother must have felt earlier that afternoon: struck out of the blue for no discernible reason.

“I want to break up,” Teddy said.

“What?” Ainsley says. “Why?”

“Why?” Teddy says.

“Why?” Ainsley says. “Is it Emma? Did you take Emma with you to see G. Love at the Jetties?”

“I didn’t go to the Jetties, and G. Love never showed anyway,” Teddy says. “And this has nothing to do with Emma. I like someone else.”

Ainsley sucks in her breath. “Someone else?” she says. “Who?”

“Candace,” Teddy says. “I like Candace.”

Candace? Ainsley thinks. Candace Beasley? Measley Beasley? Ainsley thinks Teddy must be kidding, but then he launches into a monologue about how he needs positive influences in his life. He can’t get caught up with the drinking and the smoking. If he gets in trouble and Graham kicks him out, he’s looking at foster care or a group home. Candace is an A student and an altar girl at Saint Mary’s. She and Teddy were the only ones at Ainsley’s party who stayed sober. Teddy called her on Sunday, and they met for a walk on the beach. They talked. He tried to kiss her, but she wouldn’t let him until he’d properly broken up with Ainsley.

“She doesn’t want to hurt you,” Teddy says. “She doesn’t want you to be able to say she stole me from you, because it isn’t like that.”

Ainsley is speechless. She is stuck back on the phrase positive influences. Isn’t Ainsley a positive influence? Was she not the one who befriended Teddy when he first arrived on Nantucket? He could have been an outcast, a weird loner from Oklahoma, but Ainsley had introduced him to all her friends. She had included him. And then soon afterward, once they started dating, she had given him her virginity. She understands that he doesn’t want to mess up and get in trouble. He doesn’t have to drink or smoke; she has never pressured him to do so.

Maybe Ainsley isn’t on the honor roll. Maybe Ainsley isn’t an altar girl at Saint Mary’s—her mother never had her baptized, much less confirmed—but she has a heart, and her heart loves Teddy.

Candace Beasley! Backstabber, Ainsley thinks. She will destroy Candace Beasley. She will destroy Candace and Teddy together. They can be good people, but they will be alone.

Ainsley recognizes those last few thoughts as those of an evil, vengeful person—which is exactly what pushed Teddy away. Ainsley takes a deep breath. “I’m sure she doesn’t want to hurt me. Candace and I used to be best friends, then we drifted apart. When I invited her over on Saturday, it was because I wanted to try to get close to her again.”

“That’s what she told me,” Teddy says. “She also told me that you and Emma have been pretty mean to her.”

“We have been,” Ainsley admits. And now she’s exacting her revenge. “I’m sure you guys will be happy together. Happier than you and I were. I wish you the best.”

“Ainsley—” Teddy says.

“Good-bye, Ted,” Ainsley says, and she hangs up.

Ainsley stares at her phone for a few seconds. She’s proud of herself for not kirking out; she handled herself exactly as her grandmother might have.

But wow, she hurts. Tears sting her eyes. She’s upset about Teddy and Candace, she’s worried about her grandmother, and she is so, so sad about Billy. The only good thing that has happened is that she got to see Aunt Harper, but even that visit was cut short.

Ainsley picks up her phone to call Emma. But Emma isn’t good at commiseration; she doesn’t know how to be comforting or supportive. Neither do BC and Maggie and Anna. Ainsley has chosen friends who are too cool for any kind of genuine human emotion.

Should she call her father? Ask him if maybe she can spend the summer on the Cape? She could work as a nanny for her half brothers. Right now she’s supposed to put in forty hours a week at the ERF boutique, but Ainsley would love to tell her mother she’s found a better job. Tabitha probably doesn’t want Ainsley to work at the boutique anyway. If Ainsley goes to the Cape, Tabitha will be able to hire someone reliable and competent, someone she will be able to trust rather than doubt.

What does it say when your own mother doesn’t believe in you?

Ainsley dials her father’s number, but after six rings it goes to his voice mail. Ainsley hangs up. She’s not sure whether Tabitha has told Wyatt about Ainsley stealing the car and throwing the party, but if she has then it’s safe to say a summer on the Cape is out of the question. Becky, Ainsley’s stepmother—or, more accurately, Wyatt’s wife—hates Ainsley. She doesn’t allow Ainsley within five feet of the boys.

Ainsley’s phone rings. It’s her mother.

“Grammie broke her hip,” Tabitha says.

Ainsley exhales. “But she’s okay otherwise? She’s alive?”

“She’s alive, but the break is bad, and they’re flying her to Boston on the MedFlight helicopter. I have to fly to Boston, too. I would have you come with me, but I don’t want you to miss any more school. So… what do you think? Can you stay home by yourself tonight? There’s cash in the tea tin if you want to order a pizza for dinner, or there’s a hunk of low-fat Gouda in the deli drawer. No rice crackers, though. We finished those up last night.”

“Will you be home tomorrow?” Ainsley asks.

“I’m not sure, sweetheart, but I have to go with your grandmother. She doesn’t have anyone else. Please, please just be good until I get back. Do your homework, take the bus to school. No smoking, no drinking, no parties—okay?”

“Okay,” Ainsley says. “I promise.”

She hangs up. Broken hip: not the worst news, but still serious; Ainsley gets that. Why do old people always break their hips? It’s like a thing.

So now Ainsley has the house to herself—overnight and maybe longer. Three hours ago, this was exactly what Ainsley dreamed of, but right now… well, she feels more miserable than she has in all her life.

HARPER

When she wakes up the morning after Billy’s memorial reception, the answer is clear: she has to leave the Vineyard.

Harper’s phone continued to blow up the night before, to the point where she wished her phone would actually blow up. There were texts from Drew and from an unfamiliar number, which turned out to be Drew’s cousin Jethro, the son of Wanda, the aunt who made the stew. Harper deletes these texts without reading them. She feels anew the shame of three years earlier. What had she learned then? The Vineyard is a great place to live… until you screw up. Being part of a community means you have a responsibility to behave, to obey the laws, to act like a decent human being. And when you don’t, you let everyone else in the community down.