Alexa didn’t know; Alexa didn’t seem to care that much. Rebecca supposed the list, like everything else these days, could be found online.

“What about a dorm assignment? Did we get that yet?” Rebecca couldn’t wait to drop Alexa off at Colby and watch her get ready to experience everything she herself had experienced. “I wonder if you’ll be put in Hillside,” she mused. “Remember, from the tour?”

Alexa didn’t answer.

Rebecca’s phone, which was in her lap, buzzed. A text from Gina. Sry we missed u at the beach yesterday! U should have told us where u were going.

Rebecca could feel the passive aggressiveness seeping through the screen. “Oh, please,” she said.

“Drama?” asked Alexa. She found a spot in the traffic flow and shot across Merrimac Street; they were almost home. “Mom Squad drama?”

“Of a sort.”

Alexa’s expression simultaneously said, You are old, so your drama cannot possibly be as interesting as my drama and, Despite myself, I’m sort of curious. After a moment the curiosity must have won out because Alexa asked, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” said Rebecca. The phone buzzed again. This time the text was from Monica. Thought we’d see you at barre yesterday. “I mean, it should be nothing. Morgan and I went to the beach with Sherri and Katie and you’d think I gave the nuclear code to North Korea.”

“Who are Sherri and Katie?”

“New people. From Ohio. Jeez, try to make a new friend and it feels like high school all over again. Do you know what I mean?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Alexa. “I definitely know what you mean. Remember that time someone called you at one in the morning to find out why her daughter hadn’t been invited to a sleepover with Morgan and four other girls?”

“Tammy,” said Rebecca. “I remember. I told Morgan she could only have five that time. I can’t always host a dozen!”

“Remember when World War Three broke out over a barbecue that someone wanted to have on the same weekend as Brooke’s end-of-summer party?”

Rebecca remembered that too. “Gina,” she said. “Not even the same day. Just the same weekend. That was a kerfuffle. To put it mildly.”

“So who would be what, then?” asked Alexa. “If you were all in high school?”

Rebecca thought about it. “Esther would probably be homecoming queen,” she said. “And, let’s see, Gina would definitely be student body president, and Melanie would be the pretty girl who wanted the lead in all the plays but thought she was too cool to hang out with the theater kids. A theater kid in sheep’s clothing, I guess.”

Alexa smiled indulgently. “Homecoming queen isn’t really a thing anymore, Mom. That’s like super old-fashioned.”

“Well. Still. You know what I mean.” Alexa granted this statement a slightly condescending nod. “In a way,” Rebecca continued, “in a way it never ends. We’re in high school for the rest of our lives, like it or not.”

“Please, no,” said Alexa. “I just got out of high school. Whatever else you do, please don’t tell me that I’m stuck there for the rest of my life.” She turned into the driveway and parked neatly, pulling up on the emergency brake just the way Peter had taught her. Rebecca had left the whole of Alexa’s driving education to Peter and the professionals at Hoffman Driving School. She didn’t have the stomach for it herself. As a result, Alexa could parallel park like nobody’s business, and she could drive through rush-hour traffic on Storrow Drive without breaking a sweat.

“Peter would be proud of you,” Rebecca said now.

“For what? My parking? It’s just a driveway, Mom. Morgan could park here.”

“Well, your parking, to start with. But a lot of other things besides.”

Alexa winced. There was a moment where Rebecca thought Alexa might hug her, or that she might even cry. But: “Thanks,” she said softly, not meeting Rebecca’s eyes, hopping out of the Jeep, landing softly on her illegal bare feet.

16.

Alexa

One day close to the end of June, Alexa locked the door and readied herself for the camera. She surveyed the contents of her closet and consulted her list of what she’d worn in previous videos.

Alexa kept her online outfits in the back of her closet, behind her winter coats, just in case anyone ever came snooping. She selected her Diane Von Furstenberg Julian silk jersey mini wrap dress in Sussex stripe hydrangea; she found that when she wore vertical stripes her viewers took her more seriously. She could tell by the comments. In the bathroom, she employed her hair straightener to tame the curated beachy look she wore at the Cottage and, finally, she used her Tom Ford eye color, which cost eighty-eight dollars at Sephora. Alexa believed this to be a silly amount of money to spend on four shades of eyeshadow, but she also believed in looking the part, and she further believed that when you had money you should spend it on quality items.

She tested the microphone by reciting the first stanza of “The Raven,” which she’d had to memorize in eighth grade and had never forgotten. “Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,” she began.

A knock at the door. She sighed and turned off the camera. Suddenly there came a tapping, she thought. “Yes?”