Within seconds, I had my entire future mapped out. We’d keep in touch after the summer, exchanging letters that would become more meaningful as time passed. Love would eventually be declared. Plans would be made. We’d have sex for the first time on my eighteenth birthday, preferably in a candlelit room at some exotic locale. We’d stay devoted as I went to art school and he completed his residency. Then we’d marry and be the kind of couple other people envied.

As outlandish as it seemed, I told myself it could come true. I was mature for my age, or so I thought. Smart. Cool. Like Vivian. And I knew exactly what she would have done in that situation.

So when Theo attempted to take a sip of his milk shake, I beat him to it, leaning in and sucking from his straw. The move was bold, so utterly unlike me. I blushed, my face turning the same shade of peachy pink as the lip gloss I left behind on Theo’s straw.

Yet there was more boldness in store. The kind of thing I never would have attempted had I spent even a fraction of a second thinking about it. But I didn’t think. I simply acted, closing my eyes and tilting my mouth toward Theo’s, the vanilla taste on my tongue spreading to my lips as I kissed him. His breath was hot. His lips were cold. The warmth and chill merged into a sweet, fluttery sensation that filled my body.

I pulled away quickly, my eyes still closed. I didn’t want to look at Theo. I didn’t want to see his reaction and bring an end to the magic spell I was under. He ended it anyway, softly saying, “I’m flattered, Emma. I really am. But—”

“I was just kidding,” I blurted out, my eyes still squeezed shut as my heart twisted inside my chest. “It was a joke. That’s all.”

Theo said nothing, which is why I leaned back in the booth, turning to the window before opening my eyes.

Vivian was on the other side of the glass, her presence an unwelcome surprise. She stood on the sidewalk, wearing the drugstore sunglasses. Heart-shaped frames. Dark lenses reflecting diner chrome. Although I couldn’t see her eyes, the smile that played across her lips made it clear she had witnessed everything.

I couldn’t tell if she was happy about what she saw or amused by it. Maybe it was both. Just like during her games of Two Truths and a Lie, it was sometimes hard to tell the difference.

21

My excuse for going into town was to fill a prescription for allergy medicine I’d forgotten to bring with me. Yet another lie. At this point, I’ve fallen off the truth wagon completely. But again, I consider it justified, especially because it gave me the chance to return to Dogwood and grab my backpack and Vivian’s diary. By then the paint on the door had been completely wiped away. The only evidence it had been there at all was a swath of freshly cleaned wood and the nose-tickling smell of turpentine.

Now Theo and I ride in the same mint-green pickup that had whisked us out of camp fifteen years ago. Inside, all is silent, the radio apparently having died years ago. Theo drives with one hand on the steering wheel, his bent elbow jutting out the open window. My window is also rolled down. I stare at the woods as we leave Camp Nightingale, the trees a blur, light sparking through their branches.

I’m long past being mad at Theo about the camera outside Dogwood. My silence stems not from anger but from guilt. It’s the first time we’ve been alone together since I learned about his breakdown, and I’m not sure how to act. There’s so much I want to ask. If he felt as lonely during his six months of rehab as I did in the mental hospital. If he thinks about me every time he sees his scar in the mirror. With questions like that, silence seems to be the best choice.

The truck hits a whopper of a pothole, and both of us bounce toward the center of the bench seat. When our legs touch, I quickly pull away, edging as far as the passenger door will allow.

“Sorry,” I say.

More silence follows. Tense and thick with things unspoken. It becomes too much for Theo, for he suddenly says, “Can we start over?”

I wrinkle my brow, confused. “You mean go back to camp?”

“I mean go back to the beginning. Let’s start fresh. Pretend it’s fifteen years ago and you’re just arriving at camp.” Theo flashes the same crooked smile he gave when we first met. “Hi, I’m Theo.”

Once again, I’m amazed by his forgiveness. Maybe all bitterness and anger left him the instant that car smashed into a tree. Whatever the reason, Theo’s a better person than me. My default reaction to being hurt is to hurt right back, as he well knows.

“Feel free to play along,” he urges.

I’d love nothing more than to erase much of what’s happened between then and now. To rewind back to a time when Vivian, Natalie, and Allison still existed; Theo was still the dreamiest boy I’d ever seen; and I was a knock-kneed innocent nervous about camp. But the past clings to the present. All those mistakes and humiliations following us as we march inevitably forward. There’s no ignoring them.

“Thank you for doing this,” I say instead. “I know it’s an inconvenience.”

Theo keeps his eyes on the road, trying to hide how I’ve disappointed him yet again. “It’s nothing. I needed to go into town anyway. Lottie gave me a list of things to pick up from the hardware store. And what Lottie demands, she gets. She’s the one who really runs this place. Always has been.”

When we reach town, I see it’s more or less the same as I had left it, although some of the charm has been rubbed away. No patriotic bunting hangs from porch railings. A couple of empty storefronts mar the main drag, and the diner is gone, replaced by a Dunkin’ Donuts. The drugstore remains, although it’s now part of a chain, the name spelled out in red letters garishly placed against the building’s original brick exterior.