Two days have passed since I posted the missing-dog signs at the library, and still not one person has emailed me.

Well, that’s not exactly true.

Nobody has emailed me about Hank, but Gregg has emailed me about a thousand different things. I wish I were exaggerating.

First, it was the video of the cat being scared of a cucumber. My mistake was writing back: LOL. Funny one. Later! Maddie.

That was it. Just five words, if “LOL” even is a word. But by the next time I checked my email, there were ten messages from Gregg. Actually, eleven, because while I was reading them, he sent me another one. True, most of them were links to different YouTube videos, and it wasn’t like I was the only recipient, but then there were three that he sent just to me. Even though they were about the party—so really, he should’ve sent them to me and Kiersten and Gabriella, who Kiersten says really wants to help out—they were only addressed to me.

Hi Maddie,

New idea!!!!!­!!!!!­!! What if we fill the pool with goldfish? They’re really cheap. I’ve got $25 saved up, which could buy at least a thousand goldfish. What do you say?

—the G man

Maddie,

Scratch that. Better idea! Kiddie pools filled with slushies. I can round up at least four kiddie pools from my neighborhood. Again, $25. That’s gotta buy enough slushies to fill at least two pools, right? Maybe three.

—Triple G

Maddie!!!

OK, not my best idea. But I have like a thousand more. Maybe we could meet up at the library and write them all down and then you can take the best ones to your meeting.

—Greggggggg

Meet up at the library? Just me and Gregg?

Was that…a date?

All I knew was that reading his emails made me super flustered, and I was pretty sure that if Avery walked into the room right then, I would die.

For the rest of the week at camp, every time I thought about telling Kiersten about Gregg’s emails, I chickened out. It felt like if I said it out loud, that would make it real.

Did I really want to be the person that Gregg had a crush on? A potentially massive crush, judging by the volume of emails.

No. I didn’t want to be that person.

It was easier not to say anything. At least for now, I told myself.

I decided I would tell Kiersten at the Fourth of July fireworks. In the dark, while the fireworks exploded over my head. No chance that anyone else would hear. It would just be the two of us.

Somehow, it always felt easier to tell the truth in the dark.

—

I’m not sure what’s so spectacular about Hitchcock’s Fourth of July Spectacular, the Sunday after our first week at camp. It’s pretty much just everyone in town setting up their blankets on the town common to watch fireworks shoot off from the other side of Hubbard’s Pond. Plus, this year it isn’t even on the fourth of July. It’s on the second.

“Maddie! Maddie!” Cammie tugs on my hand, pulling me toward one of the vendors selling glow-in-the-dark swords.

“How much are they?” I ask the teenage seller. He has a big pimple on his nose that I try not to stare at, but it’s hard.

“Five dollars each…or two for eight.”

Do I look like I’m five years old? “Just one, thanks.” I pull a wad of bills out of my pocket—money from babysitting Greta and the Germ last night—and count out five.

Cammie chooses a blue sword and slices it through the air. “Hiyaa! Chaa!” In the dark, if he does it fast enough, the glowing leaves little trails. It actually looks kind of cool—not that I want my own sword, though, thank you very much.

Together we walk back over to where Mom and Dad have spread out their blanket and set up some folding chairs next to Dr. Shanahan and her family. Dr. Shanahan’s son, Aiden, is right around Cammie’s age, and the two of them start duking it out with their play swords. I let Mom know I’m going to meet up with Kiersten over on the other side of the bandstand, and then I’m off.

As I walk over there, I keep my eyes peeled for Avery. And Gregg. I wonder how many emails he’s sent me since I last checked ten minutes ago. Five? If only. Probably more like five million.

Someone grabs me from behind and I squeal.

“Gotcha!” Kiersten laughs. I whip around and find not just Kiersten but Gabriella, too.

“Oh, I didn’t realize—” I stop myself before I actually say it out loud. That I didn’t think Gabby was coming. Meeting up at the fireworks every summer is something Kiersten and I have done forever. Just us two.

They’re wearing matching blue glow necklaces. Gabriella has a third in her hand. “Got this for you,” she says. I pull my ponytail out of the way, and she snaps it around my neck.

It’s the first time I’ve seen her since the night of the dance, the night everything changed. She’s wearing a New England Revolution T-shirt, soccer shorts, and flip-flops, but when I blink real fast, I can almost see her the way she looked that night. Dancing with Avery. His hands on her waist.

“So, how’s your summer going?” Gabriella asks.

I hesitate. Well, let’s think. I lost my house in a tornado. And you danced with Avery. So, not very well, thanks.

Kiersten grabs my arm. “How can you resist telling her about your victory? Come on, Mads.”

“Oh, that’s right. I won the Most Improved Award on the last day of tennis week at camp.”

“That was the day every ball she hit stayed in the court, which is basically a miracle. If you could only see us, Gabby. We might be the worst tennis players alive.”

“I hope I don’t leave you in my dust next year,” I joke. “Could the Terrible Tennis Twins actually split?”

Gabby stares back at us, not laughing nearly as much as me and Kiersten. I guess that’s the thing about inside jokes: they’re not so funny from the outside. “How about you?” I ask. “How’s your summer so far?”

We start heading over to where the high school football team is selling popcorn as a fund-raiser. Gabby fills me in on how she’s been waking up at six every morning since school ended to go for a run. Sometimes she even runs four miles. I’m not sure I could walk four miles without stopping.

We get into the line for popcorn, and I spot a booth raising money for the Hitchcock Tornado Relief Fund. It’s so strange, seeing the name of our town and “tornado” in the same phrase. It’s been a little over a week, and I still haven’t gotten used to it.

Gabby pays for a huge bag of kettle corn, and before we’re out of earshot of the football players, Kiersten says, “Can you believe how cute Gregg’s older brother is?”

“Which one was he?” I ask.

“The one Gabby gave the money to.” Kiersten sucks in a deep breath. “Oh my gosh, I don’t think I could’ve done it. My hand would’ve been shaking like crazy. Or worse—drenched in sweat.”

Gabby laughs. “Kiersten, you’re nuts.”

“Wait—do you think Gregg’s going to be that cute by the time we’re in high school?” Kiersten asks.

Gabby looks at me, as if somehow I can see into the future.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing,” Gabby replies. But she has this weird smile on her face.

Wait, does she think I actually like Gregg back? That I danced with him on purpose? Sure, Gregg is kinda cute. And yeah, we’re friends. Gregg is friends with everybody in our grade. But Gabby wasn’t here back when Gregg burped the Pledge of Allegiance on the bus ride to Plimoth Plantation! My first boyfriend cannot be Gregg.

Headed straight toward us is Mr. C. with an ice cream cone in his hand. “Hey, Kiersten, Maddie. And…” It takes him a second to come up with Gabby’s name. “Gabriella. How’s the summer treating you?”

“Good,” Gabby says.

“Great,” Kiersten says.

I’m the only one who stumbles over my answer. “It’s…”

Mr. C. palms his forehead. “I’m sorry, Maddie. What kind of a question is that after what happened in your neck of the woods. How are folks doing out on Hollow Road?”

I fill him in on how the cleanup crew had taken over this week while I was at camp, clearing out the lot so the construction company could start the frame for our new home. When he asks where we’re staying in the meantime, I explain how my family and Avery’s are staying with the McLarens for the rest of the summer.

“Sounds like you’re banding together in hard times,” he says. “Good for you. I hope you and Avery aren’t driving each other too crazy in that house. It’s probably better in the summertime. Less to compete over.”

He means the word problems in math. During the school year, he ran a contest every week, and Avery and I were always trying to outdo each other. The longer and wackier, the better.

“Yeah,” I say. “Totally.”

Mr. C.’s ice cream cone is dripping down his hand from too much talking and not enough eating. He licks some chocolate off the side of his hand. “Well, I don’t want this thing going to waste. Enjoy the fireworks! And, Maddie, say hi to your mom and dad for me. Tell them I’m thinking of them.”

“I will.”

“Bye, Mr. C.,” Gabriella says.

The high school marching band starts playing in the bandstand: our two-minute warning for the fireworks display. We hurry over to Kiersten’s blanket and sit down as they’re playing the final notes of “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” Kiersten sits in the middle, with me and Gabby on either side of her. Gabby opens up the popcorn and we pass it around, stuffing our faces with our eyes to the sky, waiting for the fireworks to go off.

From across the pond, there’s a hissing sound, and then they’re off. First, the big circular ones. Red, white, and blue. Cammie’s favorite. I plant my hands in the grass behind us and lean back.

Normally, Mom would be worried about Hank. Fireworks always made him flip out—really, any loud sounds. He startled so easily. I blink my eyes fast for a second. The little fizzy fireworks go up next, the kind you can’t see at first, but then they zip and twist, shooting out in all directions. My favorite.

“So…have you talked to him?” Kiersten whispers into my ear.

I think of Gabby, right on the other side of Kiersten, and what Kiersten said earlier this week at camp. I can’t believe she’d talk about my feelings for Avery behind my back like that.

“Not really,” I say.

“Maddie.” Kiersten sighs.

“I don’t want to talk about it now. Can’t we just watch the fireworks?”

I wish I could tell Kiersten how I really feel. About Avery, the house, Hank, Gregg…Starting seventh grade was supposed to be the biggest change this summer. But now it barely makes the list.

The only thing that’s stayed the same is me and Kiersten. On this same blanket, like last summer, and the summer before, and the one before that, too. Our matching glow necklaces, like we’re in this together. Like we can conquer anything, even seventh grade.

But now that’s different, too. Sure, it’s dark, but I can’t pretend there isn’t a third person on the other side of Kiersten.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Probably another email from Gregg.

I let it sit there, dig my fingers into the grass behind us, and stare up at the sky.