Rose is quiet this week, but it doesn’t feel as though I’ve done anything wrong. It’s a different kind of quiet than the one that sat between Dahlia and me after Louise told her about the auditions. I kept trying to make things better by bringing her cake or inviting her over to my house for one of our old-time sleepovers. “Can Louise come?” she asked, and I took as long as I could to say yes so she knew I meant no.

Rose walks into the shop today and says we can visit Dave tonight. “Ask your grandpa if you can.”

“Mr. Robbie won’t like that, will he?”

“I said we should visit Dave. I didn’t say anything about his dad.”

“I don’t want to get him in any more trouble.”

“Dave’s always in trouble with his dad,” she says. “It’s just the way it is.”

I think about that on the way, about whether I’d rather have a dad like mine or Dave’s. “What’s your dad like?” I ask Rose as we’re walking.

“He talks more than yours does. But he works a lot. He’s pretty tired since he started at the mill. It’s more Mum who won’t let me do stuff. I wanted to go on exchange last year, and I thought maybe he’d let me, but she wouldn’t even talk about it. She says if I’m not careful I’ll wind up in trouble. I tell her if I’m not careful I’ll wind up like her.”

“You actually say that?”

“It pisses her right off.” She stops to catch her breath. “Check out that sunset.”

Pink runs down the world. “Have you ever heard someone play the cello?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. What’s it sound like?”

“That sky.”

She nods. “It makes me ache.”

I know what she means. A long line of horn or a note sung low makes me feel the same way.

“Luke and I broke up.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and her being quiet this week makes more sense.

She starts walking again. “I knew it was coming.”

“I never broke up with a boy before. Mainly because I never went out with a boy before.”

“You’re lucky,” she says. “It feels like shit and both of us wanted to end it. Imagine how I’d feel if he’d dumped me.”

“It’s not the same, but Dahlia stopped talking to me before I left.”

“I thought you said she called all the time.”

“She did call me other summers. Not this one, though. I acted stupid last year. I lied to her about stuff.”

“How come?”

“I wanted her to think I was as good as Louise Spatula, this friend of hers who hates me.”

Rose nods. She doesn’t say anything till we reach the edge of Dave’s property. “Louise Spatula is a stupid name,” she says, and then we keep on walking.