One

“KAYLAN!” RYAN POUNDS ON MY door. “You overslept! School starts today! You’re already late!”

I run to beat him over the head with my pillow, but I’m too slow. “Ryan,” I shout down the hall. “You’re a jerk! Karma’s a thing, you know. Bad things will happen to you if you’re not nice to me.”

After five deep breaths, I call Ari.

“You want to go to the pool?” I ask her as soon as she answers.

She replies in her sleepy voice, “Kay, look at the clock.”

I flip over onto my side, and glance toward my night table.

8:37.

“Okay,” I reply. “I’ll admit: I thought it was later. At least nine.” I pause a second. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Ari sighs. “I’m still in bed, but you didn’t wake me.”

“Agita Day,” I tell her. “August first, red-alert agita levels. I’m freaking out over here.”

August 1 signals the end of summer, even though you still have almost a month left. August 1 means school is starting really soon, even though it’s still twenty-nine days away.

“Oh, Kaylan.” She laughs. “Take a few deep breaths. I’ll get my bathing suit on and be at your house in an hour. I already have my pool bag packed because I had a feeling you’d be stressing.”

“Perfect.” I sigh with relief. “Come as soon as possible! But definitely by nine thirty-seven, okay? You said an hour.”

“Okay. I’m up. And you’re never going to believe this,” she says, half distracted. “I’m getting new across-the-street neighbors.”

“Really?” I finally get out of bed and grab my purple one-piece from my dresser drawer. “Describe.”

She pauses a second, and I’m not totally sure she heard me. “They’re moving the couch in right now,” she explains. “I can’t tell how many kids there are, but there’s one who looks like he’s our age.”

“A boy?” I squeal.

“Yeah, he’s playing basketball right now.” She stops talking. “Oops, he just hit one of the movers in the head with the ball.”

“Tell me more,” I say, dabbing sunscreen dots all over my face. They say it takes at least a half hour for it to really absorb into the skin, and my fair Irish complexion needs all the protection it can get.

I only take after my Italian ancestors in the agita department, I guess.

“He went inside,” she explains. “I think he got in trouble. I saw a woman, probably his mom, shaking her hands at him.”

“Oops.” I step into my bathing suit, holding the phone in the crook of my neck.

“Oh wait, now they’re back outside. Taking a family photo in front of the house.” She pauses. “He has a little sister. I think they’re biracial. White mom. Black dad.”

“Interesting,” I say. “Maybe his sister is Gemma’s age!”

“Maybe . . .” I can tell she’s still staring out the window at them, only half listening to me.

“By the way, Ryan is insisting that red X thing is true. You haven’t heard about that, right?” I ask.

“Kaylan!” she snaps in a jokey way. “No! He’s totally messing with you. Okay, go get your pool bag ready, eat breakfast, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I grab my backpack and throw in my sunscreen, a change of clothes, and the summer reading book I haven’t finished yet. I’m having a hard time getting into My Brother Sam Is Dead, although from what I’ve read, it makes my life seem pretty easy.

I hear Ari’s instructions in my head as I get ready, and I already feel calmer. Her soft voice—she’s never really flustered by anything.

I stare at my watch again. 9:35. I wait for Ari on the front steps. I’m trying to stay as far away from my brother as possible. Ari still has two minutes, but I wish she was here already.

I stand up and look for her, but she’s nowhere in sight. She is so going to be late. On Agita Day.

I learned the word agita from my mom. She’s part Italian and she learned it from her grandmother, who was 100 percent Italian and apparently said it all the time. It basically means anxiety, stress, heartburn, aggravation—stuff like that.

I don’t know what my great-grandma’s agita was about, but mine is pretty clear.

Starting middle school.

A few minutes later, I spot Ari at the end of the block, and I walk down the driveway to meet her. She strolls toward me, hair up in a bun, with her favorite heart sunglasses on. Her pink-and-white-striped tote hangs over her shoulder like it’s the lightest thing in the world.

“I brought you an extra hair tie,” she says, showing me her wrist. “Since you always forget.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Let’s go in so I can grab my stuff. I’ve had the worst morning.”