“Actually, not yet. I'm sorry Mari, but can I borrow our boyfriend? I'd like to talk to Matty in private first."

Although she'd been struggling to hold back her sniffles during the previous conversation, Zofi's request managed to completely wash away

Mari's distress. Perhaps being able to concentrate on someone else's problems helped her stop thinking of her own, and she nodded agreeably right away. "Of course," Mari replied while letting go of me and sitting up straight.

I was surprised but only for a moment. Zofi patted Sam's leg and stood up, heading out of the family room while I got up and followed. She led me up to my bedroom, and I closed the door behind us. I knew she had something to say to me, something that needed to be said away from the others, but I was not expecting her to suddenly Launch herself into my arms, wrap her legs around my waist, and kiss me like her life depended on it. I staggered under the impact -- Belle did this a lot, but Zofi was a lot bigger than Belle -- and I had to be quite careful to not fall over. But eventually I managed to stagger us over to my bed and sit down heavily on it.

Zofi kept her Legs wrapped around my waist, so we sat upright with the gorgeous crying girl in my arms.

Wait, crying?

Indeed, Zofi had streams of tears down her eyes, and she choked up a bit while trying to collect herself. Eventually, she just closed her eyes and held up her right fist, mouthing numbers as she counted upwards and raising the fingers of her right hand one at a time from one to five over and again. She got to around twenty-three before she had calmed enough and opened her brilliant blue eyes to stare at me.

And she looked absolutely heart-broken as she murmured, “I'm sorry,

Matty. I'm breaking up with you."

ALL was quiet in the minivan as I drove Zofi and Sam over to Zofi's house. I was lost in thought, ruminating over everything Zofi had told me in my bedroom. While I agreed with her decision, that didn't mean I had to Like it.

Sam, seated on the minivan's middle bench seat, kept looking back and forth between me and Zofi. I could tell from the way her head turned in the rearview mirror. She knew the two of us had gone upstairs to have our private conversation, and I gathered from her quizzical expression that Zofi had NOT confided in her best friend about this particular matter. So now Sam's sense of frustrated curiosity was going into overdrive being left in the dark like this.

Zofi, for her part, stared straight out the front windshield. I imagined she was pondering all the possible scenarios for her return back home. We were expected; Zofi had called home and spoken with her father about collecting her clothes and personal belongings. Yes, her mom was still home as well, although we didn't expect to be having any long conversations with her. The plan was to get in, pack up fast, and get back out as quickly as possible.

It was a short drive; the gated community was only about ten minutes away. As we walked up the sidewalk, Zofi automatically pulled out her keys. But a moment Later, her eyes dulled and she put them back into her purse. Sam squeezed her hand while I resisted the urge to do the same on the other side. Instead, I watched Zofi sigh as she reached up and pushed the doorbell.

A moment later, the door opened and Zofi's dad immediately opened his arms to her. Zofi didn't hesitate, darting in and squeezing him tightly, murmuring a heartfelt, “Hello, Tata.”

Zofi's dad patted her back and Looked over her shoulder at me and Sam.

He gave us a grateful smile, evidently pleased his daughter had such supportive friends. But there was also an apology in his eyes, and a sadness that broke my heart. He was a man in great pain at the fracture of his family, and I couldn't help but reach out and put my hand on his forearm, squeezing it reassuringly.

A tear threatened the corner of his eyes, and he abruptly let go of

Zofi and backed away to wipe it before it rolled down his cheek.

Schooling his face into a stoic expression, the man stood up straight and cleared his throat. I expected him to now greet us verbally and gesture for us to enter. But rather than let us into his house, Mr.

Zelazowski instead took a step forward, bringing Zofi back out onto the front porch, and closed the door behind him.

Zofi frowned, not understanding, and perhaps fearful she wouldn't even be allowed back in to collect her things. But before she or any of us could say a word, Mr. Zelazowski reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a faded black and white photograph. "Maja... oh, Maja..." he murmured, the phrase giving me a sense of déja vu. I belatedly realized he'd said the same thing just before we'd left the house yesterday, only then I'd thought he'd said, ‘My, oh, my.*

He held up the photo for the rest of us to see. In it were two teenage girls, both quite beautiful. One looked exactly like Zofi had looked during sophomore year, although the clothes were outdated, the hairstyle was bigger, and the worn photograph quality meant that it had to be Zofi's mom instead. The other girl was fair-haired and a little shorter. They were seated on a picnic table at a park somewhere, Zofi's mom's arms wrapped around the blonde girl's neck while they grinned at the camera.

“This is Maja," Mr. Zelazowski explained, now Looking straight at Zofi.

“She was your mother's first love."

Sam and I were silent as I drove us home... without Zofi.