My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I drop the trash bag on the ground before checking who texted me. It takes a single name to sour my stomach and ruin my good mood. Hillary Tell Nico that I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. She then sends a receipt for an electronic gift card to Nico’s favorite sneaker store. I want to rage. I want to yell. I want to take my phone and toss it in the pond behind my house. Instead, I type out a cordial reply. Me There’s always the Strawberry Festival next month. Hillary swore she would come since Nico is playing a special musical piece for the entire town, but I’m
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