“Oh.” Mom nods encouragingly. “That’s great, honey. Isn’t that great, Patrick?”

“It’s great,” Dad confirms, but his eyes are discerning, and I know he senses there’s more to it than what I’ve said.

“We’ve been making real progress,” I go on, “but we’re not finished, and . . .” I gather my courage and push forward. “And I want to keep seeing her for as long as I can.”

“Would she be open to that?” Mom says. “Long-distance sessions? Maybe video chat or something?”

“No,” I say.

“Maybe she could recommend someone near Providence then.”

I sigh and crack my knuckles. “Actually, I had another idea.”

When I’ve spit it all out, at least the parts that leave out eerie warnings and alternate realities, Mom and Dad just stare blankly at me. To my surprise, Dad speaks first. “Well, sugar, sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

Mom looks up at him, her face frozen in something that resembles terror. She swallows audibly and tries to compose herself. “Honey, I thought you loved this trip.”

“I do,” I hurry to say before Mom’s spirit can wilt. “And I’ll be really, really sad to miss it. But this is really, really important to me. If I’m going to go to Brown, I feel like I need it.”

“If?” Mom’s voice cracks. “What do you mean, if ?”

Dad clears his throat again. “You’re going to Brown, Natalie. It’s settled. We didn’t take out a small fortune of loans for nothing.”

“That’s not what I meant. I just . . . There are things I need to resolve before I go. Please just trust me.”

“Honey, we do trust you,” Mom says, running her fingers frantically through her hair. “We let you go to parties, you don’t have a curfew, we do our best not to pry even though it kills us not knowing where you are every second of the day because we know you’re a good kid and you’re smart and if you make mistakes, you’ll come to us. This isn’t about trusting you. It’s about our family, and this trip’s important to us.”

“I know,” I say. “It’s important for me too, and I hope I’ll never have to miss another one. But I’m going through some things right now—”

“You can talk to us,” Mom says, shaking her head.

“I can’t,” I say, and Mom looks utterly crestfallen. Her eyes gloss over at the same instant they dart toward Dad’s. He’s just staring at me, reading me like I’m a horse, as he probably has been all summer. “It’s not you guys. It’s me. I’m not ready to talk to you about some things, and I need that to be okay.”

Mom wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand, and Dad comes to sit beside her, pulling her against his side. “That part is okay, sugar,” he says. “Just give us some time to think about it.” Mom nods along, and I lean against her side.

“I do love the trip.”

“Except the board games,” Dad says. “You hate those.”

“I never said that,” I argue.

“You didn’t have to. You’re our kid. We’ve got your number.”

Mom and Dad give me the okay at dinner on Monday, four days before the trip.

“Under one condition,” Mom says.

“Anything.”

“You have to stay with someone,” Dad says. “Adults. We don’t want you here all alone while we’re across the country.”

“We talked to Megan’s parents,” Mom adds. “The Phillipses are happy to have you.”

“Megan’s not even home,” I remind them.

“Not the point,” Dad says. “You need some semblance of supervision.”

I don’t point out that Megan’s parents are the definition of “hands-off.” Megan’s been joking that they probably haven’t even noticed she’s gone yet. “Okay,” I quickly agree. “I’ll stay with the Phillipses. That’s perfect.”

“Good. We’ll be back on the twenty-first,” Mom says. “We’ll have to make the most of our last week together.”

I get up and throw my arms around them both. “Thank you so much.”

“We’re just happy you’re taking care of yourself, honey,” Mom says. “If three weeks apart can make a difference, then so be it.”

“I promise you it will,” I say. Three more weeks to work, three more weeks with Beau. As sad and strange as it will be to miss the trip, this is the best parting gift my parents could have given me. I’m going to find a way to make these three weeks stretch and last, use every second to make a memory I can hold on to. “Thank you.”

Dad stands behind Mom’s chair and squeezes her shoulders. “It’ll be good practice for us, for while you’re at Brown. Where you will be going. No matter what.”

Beau comes to pick me up that night, same as always, but this time he’s still covered in grease from work and his eyes are bloodshot.

“Hey,” I say, climbing in beside him.

“Hey.”

“You look tired.”

“You look beautiful.”

I turn my smile down toward my lap. “I have news.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“I’m skipping out on family vacation,” I answer, meeting his eyes. “I have a few more weeks here.”

“Really?” The barest hint of smile climbs up the side of his mouth, and I want to do whatever it takes to make it stay. “We gotta celebrate.”

“Oh, we do?”

He nods. “However you want. It’s your night.”

“Anything?”

He nods. “Name it.”

I glance out the window, considering asking for the moon or the stars, but tonight the small things Beau can give me are bigger and brighter than the lights in the sky. “Cereal,” I announce, and Beau laughs and pushes my chin down with his thumb.

His voice lowers, softens, filling the car with heat. “You wanna come over for cereal, Natalie Cleary?”

“I do, Beau Wilkes.”

We drive in silence, and when we get to Beau’s house, we see his brother’s Buick parked outside, headlights on and glowing across the unkempt, weed-ridden lawn. Beau leads me inside, the screen door whining, and the man I saw fall-down drunk a couple of weeks ago sits up on the dull brown couch, lifting a beer bottle into the air in greeting. “Who’s this?” he says.