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“There’s spaghetti—” Justin said.

“I ate at Josie’s. I’ll be in my room.” And she left.

Justin looked at me with an amused expression while we listened to her stomp up the stairs and slam the door.

“She’s twelve and at the hating-everything stage,” he said. “Were you like that when you were twelve?” he asked, taking the cookie sheet from me to dry.

“I didn’t have the luxury of being like that. I had to be invisible.”

He drew his brows down. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “I couldn’t really be needy or crabby. It just made Mom worse. And then when I was in foster care, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.”

“Why?”

“Because being difficult is the best way to get sent back? Or getting the crap beat out of you?”

He stopped and stared at me. “Did anyone ever do that to you?”

I looked at the sink as I scrubbed it out. “I have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly of the foster care system, Justin. And there’s definitely all three. Maddy’s parents were the good. I got really lucky with them.”

A little twinge of guilt stabbed at me suddenly, remembering I wasn’t going home for the anniversary party. It didn’t stab at me because I felt bad I wasn’t going. It stabbed at me because I felt bad that I didn’t feel bad.

What was wrong with me? These people had saved me.

Maybe Maddy was right. Maybe I was aloof to a fault. Except with Mom. With Mom I felt everything, all the time.

“What are you thinking?” Justin asked, snapping me out of it.

I looked up at him. “Was I making a face?”

“A little bit.”

I started rinsing the sink. “I’m thinking that my mom takes a lot out of me. And that maybe she doesn’t leave anything for anyone else.”

He nodded slowly like he understood.

“There’s this thing that I do,” I said. “It’s… never mind. It’s hard to explain.” I shut off the water.

“No, explain it,” he said, handing me the towel. “Tell me.”

I leaned my hip on the counter. “I have this thing where I get small,” I said, looking at the towel as I dried my hands. “I get really withdrawn and I just want to be alone.”

“Everybody feels like that sometimes.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s bigger than that.” I stopped and he waited for me to go on. “When I was little, I couldn’t really count on anyone. I mean, really I couldn’t. My mom was so all over the place and we were always moving. I’d get a friend or a teacher I liked and then they’d just be gone because I’d go live somewhere else. So I became an island—and the island is small. I don’t need anyone. And I know that sounds sort of terrible, but it’s actually comforting to know that I have this ability to need no one. It feels like a superpower. Like I’m untouchable.”

He was studying me quietly, listening.

“Usually Maddy is on the island. And Mom is on the island. Everyone else is on the shore. And sometimes I wish I could go get them, but I just… can’t. I don’t have the space for them. And I know that it hurts people, but it’s just who I am. And it makes me feel like a horrible person.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think you’re a horrible person. I think you went through something horrible and that’s who you needed to become to get through it.”

“Maybe.” I had to look away from him. “I’m sorry. I’m just in a funk today.”

He dipped his head to look me in the eye. “You only have two people on your island and you’re worried about one and fighting with the other one. I’d be in a funk too.”

I gave him a little smile. “You know, I was almost too small to come here tonight.”