Logan comes by to check on Kayla, but she’s not really in the mood for hanging out, so he leaves soon after. Logan might be an ass most of the time, but the guy’s got heart. There’s a reason he’s one of my best friends.

   I don’t know where Kayla’s decided she’s going to stay. I hope to God she doesn’t go to James’s house—not just because he’s an asshole, but because . . . It’s selfish, I know, but I honestly don’t want to be without her.

   Lisa stays for dinner again. The funeral director is coming tomorrow morning to make arrangements, then the cops will come by with an update after that. There’s an appointment the following day with the family lawyer. I think Lisa’s hoping the funeral will be the day after that. Turns out she’s getting married in a couple of weeks (the weekend after graduation). It’s her second marriage, Kayla told me, and apparently this new guy is way nicer than her first husband. Kayla was planning on going, but because of everything that’s happened she told me she wasn’t sure she’d go. Anyway, Lisa has to head home the day after the funeral.

   We’re sitting at the dining table, eating dessert. Julie is still at her friend’s house. Kayla hasn’t touched her plate.

   “I know this is far from important right now,” Lisa says, putting down her fork. “But Kayla’s mom was going to be my maid of honor.” She looks across the table at Kayla. “I was hoping that maybe you could take her place. I think it’s fitting—I love you just as much as I loved her.”

   Kayla looks at me and bites her lip. She twists the napkin in her lap and nods. “Of course, Aunt Lisa,” she says quietly. She clears her throat and speaks louder. “I’d love to.”

   Lisa smiles. “Oh, thank you, hun. It means so much to me that you’re still able to go.” She invites my parents, but they politely decline—Julie has a dance recital that weekend. “Well.” Lisa purses her lips. “I don’t want you traveling alone . . . I guess you’ll have to travel with Jake, then.”

   What? What an awesome frickin’ lady! Of course I have no choice but to go with her.

   Kayla insists on cleaning up after dinner. We then head to the back patio. It was a nice summer day, but it’s cooled down in the evening. We sit on the swing together with a light blanket over our shoulders. I put my arm around her and she leans into me. Our legs entangled, we swing in silence.

   “Are you adopted, Jake?”

   I laugh, because it’s not the first time I’ve heard the question.

   “Don’t laugh! It’s the only conclusion I can come to. You’re the only one in the family who has that sexy—I mean . . .” She blushes. “You’re the only one who has an accent.”

   “You think it’s sexy?” I try to hide my smirk.

   “Shut up.” She sits up a bit and swats my chest. “I know I’m not the first girl to think or say that. I’m sure that Casey girl has mentioned it.” She looks at me, waiting for a reaction.

   I flinch at the mention of her name.

   “What’s the deal with her, anyway?”

   “Nothing.”

   “Bullshit.”

   “So, back to my being adopted . . .” I try to change the subject. “I was actually born here. My parents grew up here, and so did I—until I was five, anyway. We lived, like, two streets down from this house. My dad got offered a job he couldn’t refuse in Australia, so we packed up and moved there.”

   “What does your dad do?”

   “He’s a lawyer. What he does is actually amazing. He specializes in child and family law. He works with disadvantaged kids, and kids who are beaten or neglected. He’s their voice when they don’t have one, you know?” I look at her. “You’re probably thinking he’s a big softie, right? It doesn’t seem like he could be, but he’s intimidating in the courtroom. When he speaks, people listen.

   “He takes on a lot of pro bono jobs, so there’s really no money in it for him—not here, anyway. I was too young to really grasp it back then, but he did the same kind of work in Australia. But there he was in charge of all these junior lawyers who were just starting out and were interested in doing the same thing. The company he worked for was funded by private and government donations. The junior lawyers were mainly volunteers, and Dad apparently got paid quite well to oversee them.”

   “That’s awesome, Jake. He sounds like a good guy.”

   “He is,” I agree.

   “And you got into baseball growing up in Australia?”

   Jake laughs. “My dad was always a baseball fan, so when we moved to Australia, he found a baseball team for me to join. You’re right, baseball isn’t really a big thing there. They have rugby, cricket, and something called AFL, or Australian Rules football. It’s kind of like American football, but it’s really rough—you don’t wear any padding. I got into it for a bit, too. After a few years, though, my dad and coaches noticed that I was starting to get pretty good at baseball. They didn’t want me to get injured playing AFL, so I had to choose one or the other. I chose baseball.

   “When I was about fourteen, Dad thought that I might be good enough to get into a decent college in the US. But it was hard to know how I compared to others from here, so he sent me back for six months to live with my aunt and uncle up the road. I met with a bunch of specialized coaches and talent scouts and stuff.

   “When Dad learned that I might be good enough to go pro one day, we packed up everything and moved back here. I guess I adopted an Australian accent and it’s stuck. Julie was actually born there, but she was four when we moved back, so she doesn’t have an accent. You think mine’s thick, but it’s half-assed compared to the real thing. You should hear some of my mates when they call on Skype! Even I have a hard time understanding them.”

   Kayla’s been listening so intently, I can practically hear the wheels turning. “What about your dad’s job?” she asks.

   “He does the same work here, but for not as much money.” I shrug. “They kind of gave up everything so I could make it pro. It’s hard not to appreciate that.”

   “Why didn’t you go pro straight out of high school? Aren’t they disappointed?”

   “Not at all. I could have gone pro if I’d wanted—I got offers, but my parents always left it up to me. I want to get a college education. I mean, who knows what the majors have in store for me? I could play two games then injure my arm, and it would be over. I have to be smart about it, you know?”

   “Wow, Jake.” She looks at me wide-eyed. “Your mom wasn’t kidding—you really are kind of a big deal.”

   “Shut up.” I laugh.