“Because I didn’t think I was worth loving.”

Hattie takes this in. And then she hits me in the stomach. I yowl in surprise, and she hits me again. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Ow.”

“Everyone is worthy of love. Even a dumb sister like you.”

I snort. “Yeah, thanks. I got that. I’m okay now.”

“Are you? Because you don’t act like a person who is okay. You mope around school, and you hardly ever leave your room, and you always look unhappy.”

“Says the sister with the permanent scowl.”

“You need to talk to him.”

I sigh and stare at my lap. “I know.”

“So why haven’t you?”

“Because now I do believe that he loved me. And I’m afraid that after all this time, after everything I’ve put him through…he doesn’t any more.”

“Ugh. So take a risk and find out. The sooner you ask him, the sooner you can get on with your life. Either way,” she adds.

Thanks to Josh, I am taking risks. I’ve learned that if I never leave those areas of my life that feel comfortable, I’ll never have a chance at a greater happiness. Accepting Dartmouth was a risk. Asking my sister to hang out with me was a risk. But the biggest risk of all is still Josh himself. I don’t yet have the courage to give him the opportunity to say no. It’s impossible, the not-knowing, but it’s better than getting the wrong answer.

There’s a muffled ring from inside my coat pocket. I pull out my phone to silence it, and then it drops from my hands and bounces against the concrete.

Josh.

It’s his actual name. I haven’t seen it on the screen of my phone since before Barcelona. My heart wrenches. “Is that him? How can that be him?”

“Whoa. He heard us.”

I pick up my phone. “What do I do?”

“One more ring until voicemail.” Hattie peers over my shoulder. “Tick-tock.”

I scramble to answer. “He— Hello?”

There’s a strange hiccup of silence. And then he speaks, and his voice – It’s him, it’s him, it’s him – is awash with strangled relief. “I didn’t know if you’d answer.”

“You got your phone back.”

“Yeah. Last week.”

I feel a stab of sadness that he didn’t call me immediately. And then a second stab, this one of guilt. I broke up with him. Of course he shouldn’t call me.

“It’s Sunday night,” he continues. “You aren’t at Pizza Pellino.”

“No, I’m at the Treehouse with Hattie.” And then I’m so dizzy that my vision goes black. “How…how did you know that I’m not there?”

But I’ve already anticipated his answer.

“Because I’m here.”

Chapter thirty

I’m trembling. Hattie’s ear is pressed against my head, listening in. Silver-white flakes catch in our tangle of red hair.

“Isla?” Josh says. “Isla, are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“I was hoping you’d be here. At Pellino’s. My friends and I are on our way to the Olympics, so we stopped by for old times’ sake. I wanted to introduce you. I mean, I know you already know them. But I wanted you to know them.”

My head swims. “You want me to know your friends?”

“Is that too weird?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’d like to see you again. We could talk?” His question is tentative.

He’s caught me off guard. I’m not ready for this. I have to prepare for this. “How long will you be in town?”

“Just tonight. We’re catching the train to Chambéry in the morning.”

Hattie is nodding her head like a madwoman.

“Um,” I say. “Sure. I guess I could be there in…twenty minutes?”

“Great!” Josh says. “Okay, bye.”

I stare down at my phone’s screen. “He hung up.”

“He was afraid you’d take it back,” Hattie says.

I put my head between my legs. “I feel ill.”

“That was the strangest timing. The strangest. It’s like fate, if I believed in fate. I don’t know. Maybe I believe in fate now.”

The tone of her voice makes me lift my head. She grins.

“Hattie.” My heart seizes. “What did you do?”

“Jeez, nothing.”

“Tell me what you did!”

“Ow.” She covers her ears at my shouting. “Maybe I mailed your stupid book to his dad’s stupid office in DC, I don’t know.”

I frown. “Huh? What book?”

“The one you brought home from Angoulême, thanks for not inviting me, that I stole from your room to read and discovered you’d had personalized? I thought it was so sad and pathetic that I mailed it to him. And maybe I attached a note saying how much you were totally still in love with him, and he should try calling you again.”

It’s the only thing that could shock me more than Josh’s call. Finding out that I have Hattie to thank for it. I’m speechless.

“You’re welcome,” she says.

“Thank you? I think? I’ll let you know when this is all over.”

“You’d better.” She pulls me to my feet, leads me through the trapdoor and down the stairs, locks the door, and slides the key into her pocket.

The pressure inside my chest grows at a paralysing rate. “I don’t know about this.”

“Shut up. You’re being annoying again.” Hattie leads me, stumbling, into the closest métro station. I feel like I’m moving both too fast and too slow. She shoves me through the turnstile and says, “Don’t be a chickenshit. Tell him how you feel.”

“What if he doesn’t love me?”

“He does.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Ugh, then who cares? You won’t lose anything you haven’t already lost.” She flicks a snowflake from the tip of my nose. “For once in your life, listen to your younger sister. She’s taller, and she knows better than you.”

The flakes are scattered, here and there, as they float down to earth. I glance at the grey-white sky. If only a blizzard would burst from above and bury me alive. That would be better than what I’m about to do. The temperature is below freezing, but I’m sweaty and feverish and short of breath. My feet touch Pellino’s threshold, but my body won’t go any further. One step at a time. I place my hand on the door.