He finally seemed to breathe.

After my father died in the line of duty, I'd taken a week off school.

It was Curtis who gave up the only study trip of senior year, left Gretchen behind, and dragged me to a mountaintop to clear my head.

Under all those stars, I couldn't hold it in anymore—tears sliding down before I even opened my mouth:

"My dad used to take me hiking here when I was little. He'd point down at the city and say, 'This is what Daddy spends his whole life protecting.' And I asked him, 'Then who protects me?'"

"He laughed. He said, 'When it's dark and you can't see the road, look up at the stars. Daddy's always right there beside you.'"

I sobbed until I couldn't breathe. "He's such a liar. You can't see the stars every night. Where's my dad? Where did my dad go?"

A gust of wind swept the last wisps of cloud away, and moonlight spilled across the ground.

Curtis pulled me in, arms tight around me, his chin pressed to my hair. "I'll protect you, Immy. If you can't see the stars, the moon's always there."

Maybe he really had remembered our promise all along.

But the next morning, I watched Gretchen ordering Curtis around, loading him up with bag after bag of her things.

She turned back to me with a smug little smile:

"Oh, Immy—I wanted to sketch up on the mountain, and it'd be so boring by myself, so I brought you along too. You don't mind, do you?"

My face went cold. I looked at Curtis, who said nothing.

"And if I do mind, Gretchen? Why do you have to be everywhere?"

Gretchen glared at me.

"Wow, how can you even say that? I felt bad watching you mope around, so I talked Curtis into inviting you. Don't want to come? Fine. He wasn't planning to bring you anyway."

My nails bit into my palms, and the pain shot straight to my heart.

I stared at Curtis, waiting for anything. He gave me nothing. Eventually I had to look away.

"Go ahead, you two. Have fun. From now on, do whatever you want. Just leave me out of it."

Every word came out measured and deliberate: "Especially hiking. I hate hiking more than anything in this world."

Curtis frowned. "Imogen, why are you making this into a thing? Gretchen just happened to pick the same mountain. You've wanted to go forever—stop being stubborn. Any later and we'll miss the clouds."

I let out a cold laugh, swung the backpack I'd stayed up all night packing back onto my shoulders, and turned away.

"I said I'm not going. I'm not going."