My headache was back and my head throbbed. Grandpa narrowed his eyes at me, then reached forward and felt my head.

“You’re burning up.”

“Cooper,” I growled.

“I don’t think heartbreak causes fevers,” Grandpa said.

“No. He was sick.” On top of everything he gave me his bug. Grandpa dug some medicine out of the cupboard, and I took it and went back to bed.

Cooper called and texted all day long. I had to turn off my phone at one point.

Mom hovered in my doorway later that day. “How are you feeling?” She stared at me with a pained expression that I knew had nothing to do with my illness and everything to do with her guilt.

“Not great.”

“Can you give me a play-by-play of the night?” she asked.

“No. I can’t. I feel like I’ve enabled you for a long time,” I said. This was something I’d been thinking about since the night before too. “And I’m not up for talking right now.”

“Grandpa told me about Cooper.”

“Of course he did.”

She pretended not to hear me. “You have a big heart, Abby. I know you’ll get through this.”

I felt like I had no heart at the moment. Like a certain someone had ripped it out and eaten it. Okay, maybe he hadn’t eaten it, but he fed it to some rabid dogs or something. Last night, I had been prepared to hand him my heart. I was going to put myself out there again. And this time, he didn’t even show up at all, not even as a friend. He was supposed to be my best friend, but a best friend wouldn’t have dropped the ball on such an important night for me. I wasn’t sure what hurt more—realizing I really lost the guy I loved or realizing I lost my best friend. Probably the second.

Mom left me alone, and I stared at the walls of my room. My phone lay on the nightstand next to me, full of unanswered texts from Cooper. I needed a distraction. I texted Lacey: Worst night ever.

My phone rang and I thought I was going to have to avoid another Cooper call, but it was Lacey. I picked it up. “When do you get back?” was how I answered.

“In two days.”

“I hope I last until then.”

“Tell me everything.”

And I did.

The next day and fifty-four more unanswered texts from Cooper, I was sitting on the floor in my room wielding a pair of unruly knitting needles I had bought, when Grandpa knocked on my open door.

“Come in.”

The door opened wider with a squeak. “Hey, you feeling better?”

“Physically? Yes.” I could tell my fever was gone and the headache I’d had for the last couple of days was gone with it. But anger still glowed in my chest like an evil that needed to be exorcised.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m working on the last four items on my list.” I held up the yarn and needles. Lance had made this look so easy, but it wasn’t. “Well, three, technically, since the reciprocated-love thing isn’t happening anytime soon.”

“The heart list? I thought that was only for the art show.”

“No. It was to improve my painting, and that hasn’t happened yet.”

“Of course it did. You got into the show.”

“Dad wrote Mr. Wallace. It’s why he let me display my paintings.”

He cringed. “Sorry, kid.”

If I never heard the word sorry again it would be too soon.

Grandpa moved to where my list hung on my wall. “Is there something on the list about lopsided knitting?”

My phone buzzed from the ground next to me. I looked at the screen.

Abby, please. Talk to me.

I growled and flipped it over.

“Did you need anything else?” I asked Grandpa curtly.

“Nope.” And with that, he left my room.

Yes, I definitely needed a good exorcism.

THIRTY-THREE

It was Saturday and officially the longest I’d ever gone without seeing Cooper in over a year. Six days. That number bounced around in my head as I ate breakfast. As I brushed my teeth. As I powered on my computer. Other numbers were in my head too. Like ten. That was how many voice mails Cooper had left me in six days. I’d listened to the first two, but when I realized they were just repeats of the night in his room—I’m sorry I mixed up my days, I’m a jerk, please forgive me—I started deleting them right when I saw them. Two hundred and eleven . . . and counting. That was the number of texts he’d sent. Three. The number of times he’d shown up at my door and my grandpa sent him away. Twenty-three. The number of days it had been since I’d painted anything. And I still didn’t feel like picking up a brush or going into the museum. Four. The number of times I’d called in sick this week to work. I didn’t want to face Mr. Wallace. What was I going to tell him about my horrible behavior that night?

I checked my email. Still no message from my dad. Had he even gotten the email I’d sent? Between not talking to my grandpa, my mom, my dad, or Cooper, I’d never felt more alone.

I picked up my phone and called one of the only people I wasn’t mad at.

“Hello?” Lacey answered.

“I need to get out of my house.”

“Well, you’re in luck. We were just on our way to an adventure. I’ll text you the address. Meet me there.”

I didn’t even ask her to give me more details. I got up, got ready for the first time in six days, and left.

There were three other cars in the parking lot of the abandoned church on R Street when I pulled in. I parked next to the BMW, which I knew was Lacey’s. I still wasn’t sure why this was where she said to meet, but at this point, I was up for anything. I was trying to replace bad habits with good ones. Going anywhere without Cooper was a good habit. Six days. Six days.

I jumped out of my car and hopped my way up the weedy stone pathway to the front doors. Stained glass windows that were missing several panes of glass surrounded the doors, which were nailed shut with several long boards, and created a colorful mosaic in the dirt. I knocked, not sure if I expected someone to answer but not sure how to get in.

Nobody came, so I walked around the building. On the backside I found another door, a missing board providing a space just big enough to crawl through. I took a deep breath and dived in. I pulled my phone out to light the area.

“Hello?” I called, in more of a whisper than a shout. Nobody answered. The whole place smelled like stale dirt. I stepped over and around broken bits of colored glass until I found a large room in the center of the building.

“Lacey?” I asked, seeing shadows of people in the middle. The scene made my heart pick up speed and I was seconds away from turning and hightailing it out of there.

“Abby?” her voice sounded loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Yes.”

“Come over.”

I did. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We just got here. Give me a sec.” She clicked a button, and a lantern glowed to life.

“Am I the sacrificial lamb in some weird hazing ritual you all have?”

“No, nothing like that. It was that thing I was telling you about. Perspective outings. We like to look up weird places to visit near us. It helps stretch our creative brains. Gives us new experiences. All that.”