“Furthermore,” Shiloh said, “I have a very potent presence. Do you remember Mr. Kessler?” Mr. Kessler was their ninth-grade English teacher. Cary nodded. “He said a little of me goes a long way.” Cary snorted. His cheeks crinkled. “So even though we aren’t going to talk as often, it’s still going to feel like you’re getting a lot of me.” He peered up at her, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m just used to so much of you . . .” “I get it,” Shiloh said. “Your new friends might feel watered down in comparison.” “Mild,” Cary said. “Weak,” she countered. “Shiloh, I don’t think you realize how much time we
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