What the hell does that even mean?

“She sounds like a moron,” Finn bites out, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a finger.

Last night, we had all been in good moods while we went to see some mystery lights that danced across the desert in the dark, but this morning, Finn is distant. Cold.

A woman walks by us with a flustered look on her face and tears in her eyes.

“Isn’t this just so incredible?”

I bite my lip. Because no, it is not incredible.

“Inside, we got to see a bunch of empty chairs in a room of red lamps, and out here we are looking at... what is this supposed to be?”

“It’s art, Penelope,” Marin says as she snaps a picture with her phone. “It doesn’t matter what it is. It’s about a feeling.”

“It feels dumb.”

Finn’s tone is clipped, and the way he scrolls on his phone is desperate. His jaw clenches repeatedly, and the tension rolling off him in waves is palpable.

I lower my voice and rub his tight shoulders with my palm. “Hey. You okay?”

He jerks away. “I need to make a call. I’ll meet you two in the parking lot when you are done with your stupid containers.”

As soon as the words are out, he’s off the bench and marching across the field.

Defeat tugs on my shoulders. “What’s going on with him?”

“Who knows?” She rolls her eyes. “I think it’s about Abby. I saw one of the texts saying she wasn’t going to wait around all summer or something. She’s kind of the worst anyway, so good riddance in my opinion, but whatever.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

I promised myself not to push Finn, but Marin is a resource I can’t refuse.

“Honestly, she’s a controlling bitch. She asked Finn to stop hanging out with some of his friends because she didn’t like their girlfriends. She hated it when he went fishing on the weekends with Uncle Gabe, and she told me it was cute I wore used clothes, but she said it in a way that implied she did not think it was cute. Especially when I told her I thought it was cute she dressed like a hooker.” She shrugs. “He can do better.”

She snaps another picture of the containers in front of us.

“Language,” I only half-mean it. She does actually sound like a bitch, and I would pay good money to watch Marin tell someone they dress like a hooker.

I sit quietly as I consider what she said, trying to understand what Finn might be dealing with.

When the back of my shirt is soaked with sweat and my thighs stick like suction cups to the bench, I can’t take it anymore.

“How long do we have to sit here and look at this before we can go? It’s hot as hell out here, Marin.”

“Now,” she says, standing. “I actually don’t think this is even that impressive.”

I snort out a laugh and hook my arm through hers. “You’re a funny kid.”

Her nose scrunches. “And you’re a funny mom.”

When we find Finn in the parking lot, he’s slumped on a bench with a deep crease between his eyebrows.

“Everything okay?” I ask as I sit down next to him.

“Just great.” He gives a sarcastic thumbs-up, “Can we just go?” He huffs, standing up and walking toward the Avion.

I stand, following him.