“What’s he doing here?”

Gina has this funny way of ignoring the important things you say to her. Like, when you ask her to come to the clubhouse alone and she brings the person you hate the most instead.

“It’s okay, Alex,” Mac assures me. “I come in peace.”

“You weren’t supposed to come here at all,” I snap as he and Gina walk through the slanted door of our clubhouse—mine and Gina’s clubhouse, not Mac’s.

“Alex, please,” Gina says, looking at me like she has no idea that this is her fault, but I should forgive her anyway. “I don’t even know what he did to make you hate him so much.”

“He was born.”

“Al, seriously?”

“Pretty sweet setup you got here, Alex,” Mac says, smiling obliviously. “I mean, where’d you find these curtains? Is that cactus real?” He runs his hand along the green velvet drapes on his way over to the table of succulents at the opposite end of the room.

“I can’t believe you brought him here,” I tell Gina without taking my eyes off Mac.

Gina sighs. “We were already hanging out when you asked me to come by. What was I supposed to do? Leave him on the sidewalk so we could have some top-secret meeting?”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Mac pipes up. “I won’t eavesdrop on any girl talk.”

I roll my eyes and sit on my hands so I don’t strangle him. Gina smiles thankfully at Mac before turning back to me.

“See? He’s being so nice.”

“He’s in our place,” I tell her. “This is supposed to be our place. Just for the two of us. We built this room so we could have a real home, and we promised that no one else would come here. And now he’s here.”

“Alex,” Gina says, her voice getting sharper. “Grow up. We built this place when we were kids. We have homes, real homes. Plus, Mac’s my best friend, too. He’s not here to spoil anything.”

“He already has.”

Mac’s howl of laughter makes me jump. “No way!” he says, stepping over to where Gina and I are sitting. “Is this Georgia Grossman?” He holds up a picture frame housing mine, Gina’s, and Georgia’s ten-year-old selves dressed in black leotards with our faces painted bright blue. “I have to get a copy of this!”

I grab the frame away from him. “Not on your life.”

Gina huffs and follows me back over to the table where the picture frame came from. “You’re acting like a child,” she hisses. “We’re all having a nice time, why can’t you?”

“People I dislike aren’t allowed to have a nice time,” I respond. I feel stupid for saying it, but I don’t care. “So I’d like his experience here to be as miserable as possible.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She turns on her heels. “Let’s go, Mac.”

“Uh, okay,” he says. “Bye, Alex.”

The clubhouse and I exhale when he leaves.