Her mother is hovering outside her door. “Can I come in?” “Whatever.” Elizabeth’s voice is listless. “I don’t care.” Her mom enters the room and sits down on the bed, careful not to sit on a pile of old T-shirts Elizabeth was sorting through for a clothing drive—before she lost interest. She’s at her desk now, her laptop open in front of her. On the screen is a vintage clothing website. She scrolls down the page, only half looking at it. “Evan keeps calling here.” Her mother looks at her, questioning. She pauses. “What, exactly, happened?” It has been two weeks since the date with Evan. It isn’t the first time her mom has asked this question, nor is it the first time Elizabeth has ignored it. Elizabeth shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she says again. Then she looks over at her mother in surprise. “He’s calling—really? Like, on the phone?”
