After a while, the door behind me opens, and I expect Mom to be there, her hands fluttering like they do when she’s nervous. But when I turn, it’s Ellie.

“Can you maybe not do this” she asks, frowning a little.

I raise my eyebrows. “Not do what Freak out because things are about to get deeply weird for me”

Her frown deepens, and I suddenly feel like a total garbage person. “El, no,” I say, propping a hip against the porch railing and pushing my hair out of my eyes. Even El is looking a little shiny.

“I’m happy for you,” I tell her, but she just shakes her head, looking up at the porch ceiling for a second.

“Maybe practice saying that so you don’t sound like you’re dying,” she says, and I shift my weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed. The wind is picking up a little bit now, but strands of hair still stick to my face and neck.

“Maybe if two weeks ago, my boyfriend hadn’t decided to use my connection to you to score a little extra cash, I’d be happier, but he did, so I’m not.”

“How is it my fault that you have terrible taste in boys”

“Michael was not terrible,” I say, even though half an hour ago, I for sure thought he was