Ever since the first time I visited Atlas's house, we've been coming here more often. He gets embarrassed because of how modest the house is, but I don't really care. Our house isn't that big anyway. It was only the four of us. We do have an extra bedroom, but no one ever comes to visit other than Eleonora's friends. Imogen has been gone for three weeks now, her longest time yet. Sometimes she only leaves for a night. Atlas told me that if she's gone for more than two days, then he knows not to expect her for the next two weeks. But she's never gone for three.

Yesterday I got the courage to ask him if he missed her, but he said he barely notices when she's there anyway. He's used to making his own meals, doing laundry, picking up groceries, and paying the bills whenever she forgets. When Imogen is home, she spends most of her day sleeping. She wakes up at noon and lies on the sofa, watching TV until she gets hungry enough that she can't stand it.

Speaking of Eleonora, she's calling me now. I slip into the bathroom down the hall while Atlas waits in his bedroom. He's working on an English assignment that we're supposed to hand in by the end of the week.

El has been having a hard time with all this. She's always telling me that we should spend more time together, but whenever we do we end up arguing. I can't talk to Olive anymore because every time I talk to her, she has this pitiful expression. She tries too hard to make sure I'm happy, and a lot of the time she asks me how I'm feeling and tries to get a therapy session out of it. That's not what I need right now.

I need to forget.

Atlas helps me forget.

Eleonora is saying something, but I can't quite hear her. Everything she says is so repetitive. "You shouldn't spend so much time with a boy you barely know—"

"Barely know? I've known him for almost two years now. We've been dating for a few weeks," I say. "Look, I get it. It's hard to have to act as an adult when you're only three years older than me, but I'm not a kid anymore. I'm almost eighteen."

She takes a breath. "Luna, come home RIGHT NOW!"

"You have no right to tell me what to do anymore! You're not my parents and you're not much older than me. Even when we were kids, Mom always put ME in charge because she knows I'm the more responsible one. So. Quit. Acting. Like. You're. An. Adult!"

She pauses, then says, "Damn it, just . . . come back a virgin."

I hand up the phone.

She's so ridiculous. El lost her virginity when she was my age. She slept with more guys that I can count. The second she knew she can, that she's old enough not to get in trouble with Mom and Dad, she slept around like she's ticking off a list.

"Ugh!"

I hit the side of the sink before crying in pain. That girl annoys me so much.

Taking a deep breath, I stare at my reflection. My hair is a bit messy, but I don't think Atlas notices these things. Or he doesn't care. The way he looks at me . . . He makes me feel so much more beautiful than I am.

I turn on the faucet but all I get is two drops of water. Imogen must've forgotten to pay the bills. I'd tell Atlas, but it's probably better not to mention it.

When I come back upstairs, he gives me a smile. "Had a fight with your sister?" he asks.

I shrug. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

He's lying on the bed, a laptop propped on his chest. He usually uses this old computer in the basement, so I decided to give him Dad's old computer for his birthday. Atlas doesn't like receiving expensive gifts since he can't afford something as pricey, so I made sure to emphasize how old it really is. He doesn't complain because it's more convenient than the 1800s computer that keeps crashing down.

It's funny how El wants to sell all our parents' shit—her word, not mine—but when I give Atlas an old laptop, she throws a fit. That girl is so inconsistent and complicated. I can't even begin to try to figure her out.

Atlas places the laptop on the bedside table and lies down. I lie down next to him,

We're staring at each other and he's holding my hand. "Do you wanna stay over?" he asks, and all I'm thinking about is my sweaty palms and Eleonora's stupid voice repeating in my head, telling me to stay a virgin. I almost want to laugh.

I'm seriously thinking about it, but before I can make up his mind, his eyes widen in comprehension and he shakes his head. "That's not what I mean." He laughs. "Just stay over. I wanna talk to you for a while longer."

"About what?"

"Anything."