Chapter 4

I laughed out loud in my empty kitchen.

Then my phone buzzed with a text from Theo Lawson, who has been my friend since seventh grade and is the only person in Harbor Point who describes things to me exactly as they are, including the ugly parts.

don't believe that roof story. a guy who quit the team in the spring sent me this last night. he said he's done covering for them

He'd sent a screenshot.

It was a private account called @blindspot. The post was a selfie of Kenzie at the roof bar with a drink in her hand, timestamped eleven minutes after her goodbye story. The caption said he actually came running lmaooo 🏃‍♂️💨

The bio under the account name said: stuff Hawkeye can't see 👀

Two hundred and twelve posts.

Kenzie has spent two years telling people she's not like other girls. No drama, no crying, she'd rather be on the sideline with the guys. She says it the way some people put a bumper sticker on a car.

In April, Theo spent a week building a promposal for a girl in our AP Bio class. Balloons, her favorite donuts, the whole thing in the parking lot after practice. Kenzie started laughing before he even got the sign up.

"Oh my God, how many times have you practiced this?" she said, loud enough for the whole lot. "Be honest. How many no's are we at?"

The girl said yes anyway, but she said it fast, with everybody watching.

When Theo told Kenzie to knock it off, she put both hands up. "It's a joke. You guys are so sensitive."

Theo found out last night where that video ended up.

Two years ago Kenzie applied to be the lacrosse team's manager. I knew why even then. I just thought Chase was mine and nothing that belonged to me could be taken.

I didn't open a single one of those two hundred and twelve posts. I saved the screenshot to my photos and put the phone face down.

Chase's next text came in while I was still standing there.

if you have any decency left you'll apologize to kenzie. not to me. to her.

I blocked him and deleted the thread.

My mom knocked on the door frame with her car keys. "It snows in Vermont in October and you own four sweaters. Get your shoes."

We got a parka, a pair of snow boots, and gloves that made my hands look like oven mitts. On the way out of the outdoor store we walked straight into eight people picking out glacier gear for a flight the next morning.

Kenzie was wearing Chase's lacrosse hoodie. The star was still on her neck.

I had my dark glasses on and my hand through my mom's arm. I'd left the cane in the car.

Kenzie got to me first and put an arm around my shoulders like we were close.

"Hazel. I'm so glad I ran into you." She pressed the side of her hand under her eye, where there was nothing to wipe. "I feel awful about last night. I scared myself, honestly. Chase found me, so it's fine now." She turned her head. "Mrs. Brooks, I swear I never wanted any of this—"

"Are you finished?" my mom said.

Kenzie's arm stayed where it was.

"You've been talking for thirty seconds and you've already made yourself the victim of my daughter's birthday." My mom's voice stayed friendly, which made it worse. "Hazel doesn't humiliate people in public, because we raised her not to. What's your excuse? Hanging on somebody's fiancé and calling it brotherhood." She thought about it for a second. "What do they call that online? Pick-me."

I took Kenzie's hand off my shoulder and set it back down at her side.

"You smell like Chase's cologne," I said. "Brothers don't usually. And we're not friends, so you can stop."

Kenzie's eyes went red. She's good at that.

Brynn pushed to the front of the group. "Mrs. Brooks, that's so out of line. Kenzie almost did something last night because of your daughter."

who's gonna want a blind girl lol chase is literally a saint. That was Brynn's message, in that chat, twelve hours ago. My stomach turned over.

Chase reached for my elbow. Eight years of habit, his hand at my arm whenever a group got loud.

"Chase," Kenzie said, small.

His hand changed direction and went to her face instead, thumb under her eye.

"Mrs. Brooks, that was harsh," he said. "Kenzie isn't like us. She doesn't have parents who catch her when she falls. She's fragile."

"Fragile." My mom laughed once. "My daughter took a firework for you when she was ten and spent eight years in the dark. Don't stand in a store and tell me who's fragile."

Nobody said anything. Chase opened his mouth and closed it. The eight of them stood there holding crampons and base layers, and not one of them had a word ready.

"We're going," my mom said, and steered me toward the doors.

Chase caught my wrist.

He was looking down into my shopping bag, at the parka and the boots, and I watched him figure out something that wasn't true.

"Oh." He started smiling. "Okay. Okay, I get it now. You've been doing this whole thing because you want to come with us." His grip got warmer. "Hazel, you could have just said that. Our flight's at ten, I'll call and get you a seat next to—"

"You misunderstood."

I pulled my wrist out of his hand and took off my dark glasses.

"I'm not going to Alaska. I'm going to Vermont. And Chase. I can see you."

His smile held for one more second. Then it came apart.