IN THE MORNING, my dad makes us chocolate-chip pancakes. They don’t taste right, but I force them down. Then he reminds Holden and me that we have to go back to school. I think he’s convinced that the sooner we all go back to our normal routine, the sooner we’ll get back to normal ourselves. But he must know deep down this will never happen. We will never be normal again.

On the way to school, I sit in my usual place alone in the backseat and stare out the window. Holden sits up front with my dad. When we get to school, I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“OK, you two. I know you don’t want to be here, but you can’t stay out forever. Call me if it’s too much and I’ll come get you right away.”

“It’s too much,” Holden says.

“It is,” I agree.

My dad nods. But he doesn’t offer to take us back home.

Holden sighs and gets out of the car. For the first time, he actually waits for me. Together, we walk toward the large entrance and step inside.

The first bell rings as we make our way down the busy hall. People look at us in the predictably I feel so sorry for you way, but no one says it out loud. When we get to my locker section, Holden stops. “You going to be OK?”

I shake my head. “You?”

“Probably not. I’ll meet you after school at the usual place.”

“OK.”

He joins the sea of people moving down the hall.

Ran and Cassie are waiting for me at my locker. They don’t ask if I’m OK. They don’t try to hug me. They just quietly wait for me to get my things and lead me to homeroom.

I spend the day feeling like I’m a new kid at a new school. Like suddenly even the people I’ve known since kindergarten are strangers, and they are all looking at me with curious eyes. Like I am an outsider because of what’s happened. At the start of each class, I tell myself as soon as it’s over I’ll call my dad to come get me, but then I survive that class and go on to the next one. And then the day is over.

After school, my dad is waiting for us at the curb. I get in the car and we wait for Holden, who comes out about a minute later, holding his phone to his ear.

He opens the front door but doesn’t get in. “Hey, um, change of plans. I’m way behind, so Gray and I are going to the library.”

“Well, I’ll give you both a ride,” my dad says.

“Gray’s picking me up. He goes to the Academy, remember?”

“Oh,” my dad says. “Right.”

“I’ll be home for dinner,” Holden says. He walks away before my dad even replies.

“Come on up front,” my dad says to me.

I do, and we slowly pull out of the crowded pickup zone.

Instead of going home, we go to the restaurant. The dining room is empty except for one older couple sharing a banana split.

I sit at Charlie’s favorite booth and get my homework out.

“Want me to make you a milk shake?” Sara asks, suddenly standing over me.

“No, thanks,” I say.

But she doesn’t walk away.

“I got Mom to come to work today,” she says quietly. “She’s upstairs.”

I nod.

She sits across from me. “I talked to Dad,” she says. “And I want you to know, I don’t think what happened is your fault.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “You have to know that. And I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

I try to pull my hand away, but she squeezes harder.

“I just — I blamed myself, too. Just like Mom. If we’d been watching him so you could do your homework, it wouldn’t have happened.”

And for a minute, I want to say, Yes, you’re right. It was your fault, not mine. If you’d been doing your job, he would have been with you instead.

But he was with me.

And it wasn’t because they were neglecting him. Not really. He was with me because he wanted to be.

“I was the only one who could have stopped him,” I say. Deep down, everyone knows that. “But I couldn’t. He was so fast. He just took off and —”

“Don’t you get it?” She squeezes my hand again. “There are a million things we all could have done to change what happened. But we didn’t know. We couldn’t. And we can’t go back and do those things now. It just happened, Fern. Not because of Mom. Not because of me or Dad or anyone else. And not because of you.”

I close my eyes because I don’t want to cry.

Sara reaches for my other hand and holds mine tight inside hers. “No one blames you, Fern. I promise.”

I raise my eyes so we’re staring into each other’s souls. I never thought she knew about the tell-me stare, but it feels the same.

“I believe you,” I say.

She pulls our hands toward her and lays her head against them. “I love you,” she whispers.

The bell on the door tinkles. She lifts her head, and we both look toward the door as Ran and Cassie walk in.

“We thought you might need help catching up,” Cassie says when they get to our table.

Sara smiles and gets up so they can sit with me. “I’ll be upstairs with Mom.” She walks away before I can respond. Before I realize I didn’t tell her I love her back.

Cassie sits across from me and scoots along the seat to make room for Ran. If Charlie was here, he’d squish himself right between them. He’d hand Doll to Cassie, and he’d snuggle his head against Ran and ask for a story. And Ran would tell him one because that’s the kind of person Ran is. And I would feel jealous.

Instead, the three of us just sit quietly. They get out their homework and give me their notes. But when I open my notebook, my pen feels so heavy. And everything just seems too hard.

“I’m getting a sundae,” Ran says. “What do you guys want on it?”

Cassie smiles. “Everything.”

He comes back with three spoons and a giant bowl overflowing with so many toppings, you can’t see any ice cream. I slide all my stuff into my backpack, and we start to eat. For the first time, I can taste. I taste the sugar and vanilla in the fresh whipped cream. The chocolate sauce and butterscotch. We eat spoonful after spoonful. It’s so much easier to eat than to talk. When we finish, we all lean back. Ran finally takes off his zipped-up sweatshirt. He’s wearing his be T-shirt.

“Let’s try again,” he says. And this time they help me take notes, and we talk a little bit about school, and they remind me that the homecoming dance is coming up. It’s a huge event for the middle school and high school because it’s one big dance. Every year, a group of parents gets together to try to separate the two groups, but there’s always another group that fights for the tradition, and they all end up agreeing to have more chaperones instead. Sara thinks pretty soon there will be more chaperones there than students.

As Cassie talks about the dance, she keeps glancing over at Ran with a hopeful look in her eyes, but he doesn’t ask her if she wants to go.

When it’s time to leave, Sara offers Cassie and Ran rides home, but they say they can walk. They each give me a hug and head off together. I wish I could go with them.

In the car, Sara drives, and my mom sits in the passenger seat. She leans her head against the window. I thought after last night, she would be more aware of the rest of us. Of me. But now I wonder if the hug in the hall will be my last one. I know it’s selfish and awful of me, but I wonder if she would have been this sad if it had been me instead of Charlie. Charlie was her special joy. I know that. I never felt like the special youngest child before Charlie was born. Only that one day when I was sick. Most of the time I felt like the extra kid to clothe or take to the dentist. But when Charlie came along, my parents totally changed. They doted and coddled and adored. They filled a baby book with all of Charlie’s firsts, while my own baby book remained mostly blank except for my birth date and how much I weighed. They called Charlie their autumn surprise. He was their gift. And I always wondered what that made the rest of us.

But I realize now, he was my gift, too.

I touch my ear.

I love you, Ferny.

Why didn’t I know it? Why didn’t I pay attention? I don’t want to be the youngest again. I can’t be.

At home, I go straight to my room and shut the door. I pull the answering machine from under my bed and plug it in. I press the side of my face against the speaker and wait for Charlie’s happy, proud voice to vibrate against my cheek and imagine his sticky fingers are touching me. I play the message again. This time I put my hand on the speaker, as if mine is touching his. And listen again and again.

“Fern!” Sara calls from downstairs. “Dinner!”

I play the message one more time, trying to hold the words and his voice inside, even if they are a lie. Then I carefully put the machine back under my bed.