I had my own hoodie in the back, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I pulled it on. It didn’t smell like anything but Donavan. A smell I didn’t realize I knew until that moment.

He tried to turn on his phone, but it didn’t have enough battery power to do that.

“We can go,” I said.

“Do you . . . ?” He paused, hesitating for a moment. “I mean, what if we just went back to my house? If you don’t want to go home yet, I mean.”

I nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good.”

I looked at the ocean as he pulled out of the parking lot. I felt tired. I leaned my head up against the window and watched the world outside pass by in a colorful blur. He must’ve known I was past talking, because it was a silent car ride. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but eventually my eyes drifted closed.

When I woke up, everything was still. It took me a minute to reorient myself and another minute to realize I had woken up because Donavan’s hand was gently shaking my shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “We’re here.”

I lifted my head, my neck screaming in protest at the weird angle it had been in for the last hour. I rubbed at it and looked at the house in front of me. It was a small home in a neighborhood full of houses that looked exactly the same. The yard was nice: some bright pink and purple flowers in a window box, neatly trimmed grass, stepping stones carving a path to the front porch. It looked homey. Donavan jumped out of the car, and by the time I’d opened my door, he was around to give me a hand.

He glanced over his shoulder, up at the door, a nervous expression on his face.

“Oh, I didn’t ask, are you in trouble? Had your parents blown up your phone?”

“No, I don’t think my mom realizes yet that I wasn’t at school.”

“Do you need to go warn your parents or your sister that you’re bringing company inside?” I asked, not sure what other reasons he’d have for being nervous.

“No, but I kind of need to warn you.”

“Warn me about what? I’m pretty good with parents.”

“I’m sure you are. No, my sister. She . . .” He narrowed his eyes and studied my face.

“What?” I hadn’t put makeup on after my shower, so I knew my cryfest hadn’t reduced me to a mess of mascara or anything. My hair might have been a bit crazy. When I brushed through it, like I had, my curls were unpredictable. I looked down at my outfit, which was just a pair of jeans, his hoodie, and flip-flops. Not fancy, but not bad either. Was he embarrassed of me?

“She’s a huge fan.”

It took me a second to process those words. “Of me?” I asked, incredulous.

“She loves The Cafeteria more than I do, and she cried when your character died.”

“Your sister, the freshman?”

“Yes, Kennedy.”

“She got attached after four whole episodes?”

“What did I tell you? You were very convincing.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“I told you that you were brilliant. That was an all-encompassing compliment.”

“Oh, really? So you can say that you told me anything in the future and it’s covered under the ‘brilliant’ umbrella?”

“Pretty much.”

“I guess I’ll brace myself for this, then.”

“I apologize in advance.”

He headed toward the steps, up to the front door, and I stood there taking in a few breaths and attempting to shake everything that happened today. I put on my happy face. I was about to have an audience—his mom; his sister, my only fan. I needed to be on, not a pathetic mess.

He turned back, one eyebrow raised, his hair tousled from the wind, his skin a healthy glow from the time we’d spent outside. He was adorable. My heart fluttered.

“You coming?” he asked.

“I’m coming.”

He was right to warn me, because even after his warning, I wasn’t expecting his sister’s reaction. At first it was completely normal. We walked into the kitchen, where his sister had spread peanut butter on some bread and was now adding sliced bananas to it.

Donavan looked at me. “Are you hungry?”

Was I? I hadn’t eaten all day, but my stomach felt like a nervous mess.

“Well, obviously,” his sister said, not looking up. “Hence the sandwich.”

“Kennedy, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Then who were you talking to?” She looked up and immediately met my eyes. I didn’t think she’d recognize who I was so fast, because most people took a moment to process someone out of context, but she must’ve known Donavan had been tutoring me or something because her mouth immediately dropped open.

“Kennedy, this is—” he started to say.

His sister interrupted him with, “I know who she is! I don’t live under a rock.”

I laughed a little. One didn’t have to live under a rock to not know who I was. In fact, there was a very specific set of qualifications people needed to have to actually know who I was. Those included: be related to me in some way, go to Pacific High School, or be a rabid fan of The Cafeteria, apparently. Well . . . at least before the article those were the qualifications. Now . . . “Hi,” I said. “Good to meet you, Kennedy.”

She had stopped topping her peanut butter with bananas and was now shaking her hands out and doing a running motion with her legs. “Donavan! Why would you bring her here without warning me! Look at me. Do I look ready to meet a celebrity?”

“You look fine, Kennedy,” he said, and I nodded my agreement.

“Fine? Fine! Fine is not a good compliment. If you learned this, maybe you’d have a girlfriend.”

Donavan and I exchanged a quick smile.

She sighed a big drawn-out sigh. “Well, I guess it’s too late now, the first impression is over. You will forever know me as the after-volleyball-hair, peanut-butter-and-banana girl.”

“It could be worse,” I said.

“It could?” she asked.

“The first time I met your brother . . . and the second and third for that matter . . . I was decomposing-flesh girl.”

“How is that worse? My brother is not a celebrity. My brother is nobody!”

“Thanks, Kennedy. Love you, too.”

She waved her hand at him. “You know what I mean.”

“Well,” I said. “I think you’re charming. And I’m not a celebrity either so we’re good.”

“I love your hair,” she said. “And you have beautiful skin, I see why that zit cream picked you for their commercial. I’m sorry everyone is being mean to you on the internet lately.”

I sucked in a breath, her last comment catching me off guard.

“Kennedy, she’s trying to forget about that,” Donavan said. “Let’s not bring it up again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, then her eyes lit up. “You can stay here as long as you want!” She pushed her sandwich toward me. “You should eat this. And we can turn off the internet in the house and watch movies. Or The Cafeteria! Do you want to watch it? I have all six seasons on DVD.”

“Kennedy, she doesn’t want to watch herself on television.”