Chapter 4

I put Mason’s gifts in a storage basket and carried it to his bedroom door. There were noise-canceling headphones, the comic books we’d hunted down in thrift stores, and a terrible instant photo from homecoming.

My eyes were closed in it. Mason had never wanted a retake. He said it was the only picture from that night where he didn’t look terrified. I placed the frame facedown on top and left a note: [I’m giving these back. Don’t threaten to leave just to see what I’ll do.]

He came home after midnight. I heard him stop in the hallway and stand there for a long time. The basket was still there when I opened my door the next morning, but he’d pushed a note under my door.

[You’re really determined to win this one, huh?]

He hadn’t apologized or asked about my hand. I didn’t answer. Instead, I made a list of things to do before I left: return the equipment I’d borrowed, confirm how to collect my graduation paperwork, and cancel the two summer music festival passes I’d bought for us.

The person handling the refund asked if I only wanted to cancel one. “Both,” I said.

The senior committee’s group chat was as busy as ever. Audrey said her mom was recovering well and could keep helping reconcile the fundraiser accounts. Then she thanked Mason for being there for her through everything.

I left the social chat and kept only the one the teachers used for announcements.

Three days later, Mason and a few classmates went to an outdoor camp in the mountains. Our senior finals were over, and we still had a few days before graduation. Everyone wanted one last trip together.

I stayed home. During the day, I went to school to deal with the research files. At night, I worked through the summer program’s paperwork at the dining table, finally reading the details of something I’d nearly turned down.

A research mentor would help us build watershed models. The program covered housing. I just had to show up on time.

I video-called Grandpa Reed, who was in Maine helping his sister through rehab. When I told him I was heading to Boston early, he smiled and took off his reading glasses. “Have you booked your flight?”

“Yes. Mason and I broke up, too.”

He went quiet, but he didn’t ask whether we could try again. “Do you need me to come home and help you pack?”

I shook my head. Then, without any warning, I started crying at the screen.

He waited until I could talk again and said he’d ask Wendy to check my luggage with me. The house was my home. Breaking up with someone didn’t turn me into a guest there.

After we hung up, I sat for a long time before taping up the last box of books.

Zoe occasionally showed me pictures from camp. Mason wore a team shirt I didn’t recognize, went mountain biking and kayaking, and always seemed to have Audrey right beside him.

In one photo, they were squeezed beneath the same oversized rain poncho. Her caption read: [When it gets cold, someone always saves a place for you.]

Zoe wanted to leave a comment. I stopped her, then typed one myself. [You look happy. Maybe focus on the person who’s actually there with you.]

Ten minutes later, the photo disappeared. Mason’s texts followed almost immediately.

[What’s that supposed to mean?]

[You know there’s nothing going on between me and her.]

[I posted that stuff because I wanted you to talk to me. What you’re doing now isn’t cool.]

I read the last one and typed back, slowly: [I’m not playing a game with you.]

The typing indicator stayed on for a long time. In the end, he sent a single period. I silenced the notifications and went back to filling in my address.

On graduation day, Mason came back from camp early and waited for me in the parking lot. He was holding a graduation cap, apparently expecting me to stop at his car with my things like I always did.

I took my own cap out of Wendy’s station wagon. The smile he’d started to give me faded.

He tried to stand next to me for pictures. I moved closer to Zoe, and he didn’t follow. After the ceremony, I hugged my teachers and sent my photos straight to Grandpa.

I used to look for Mason after every school event. This time, I made it back to the parking lot before realizing I hadn’t looked for him once.

He left again that evening. Tyler said the camp’s last two days were in Salt Lake City, and he’d fly home afterward. I only asked Tyler to leave the portable charger he’d borrowed with Wendy. He laughed and told me I could quit pretending I didn’t care.

The night before my flight, I confirmed where the research program would pick me up. I packed my spare documents and key-card lanyard in my backpack, keeping my ID and phone in my belt bag.

Tyler called while I was checking everything. “Mason turns eighteen tomorrow. You’re not seriously going to skip his birthday?”

“Tell him happy birthday for me.”

“Come on. He checks his phone every five minutes.” Tyler lowered his voice. “He gets in tomorrow afternoon. Pick him up, give him a hug, and put this behind you. He’s got something for you, too.”

“I have plans of my own.”

“Right. A surprise. Got it.” He laughed before I could finish. “Just don’t keep giving him a hard time once you see him, Nora. You two aren’t actually breaking up.”

He hung up without letting me answer. My luggage was beside the door, and my flight reminder was clear: tomorrow afternoon, I was flying to Boston.

Wendy knocked to ask what I wanted for breakfast. I said a peanut butter bagel. She was about to leave when she turned back and asked if I wanted to leave the damaged sketchbook for repairs.

I took it out of my suitcase and handed it over. Grandpa had found a paper conservator who might be able to save some of the drawings. I’d kept that soaked book hoping Mason would ask to see it, hoping he’d finally understand what had happened.

Now I just wanted my dad’s work back. “Send it to my new address when it’s ready,” I told her. “I’ll be waiting for it.”