4: Locke.

I clear my throat hard. "Would you like something to drink, Harriet?"

"Yes, please," she answers with one of those bright smiles. "Anything is fine. Seltzer, soda, water..."

"Lemon lime seltzer?"

"Perfect."

I take the can from my fridge and pour it into a glass, sliding it across the island in her direction, rather than get too close. But when I do that, when I avoid going near her, I watch her smile dim and sadness dance through her brown eyes. Painful, burdensome sadness that doesn't belong anywhere in the vicinity of this bubbly girl.

My heart jolts up into my mouth at the sight of it.

What was that?

Did I cause it?

"W-well..." she begins unevenly. "Have you given any more thought to what you would like to see at the Halloween party?"

I want to address the sadness, the desolation I glimpsed in her, but it's gone now. Did I imagine it? "Uh...no. Not really. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," she says, straightening her shoulders. "I have lots of ideas. Why don't I rattle them off and you ca