Chapter 4

At six o'clock on Saturday evening, the doorbell rang right on time.

Henry practically jumped off the couch; he couldn't wait to get to the door.

I stood in the middle of the living room, watching the guest with a frosty stare.

Vanessa showed up in a white T-shirt so faded it was almost yellow, paired with some shabby, ripped jeans.

On her feet were beat-up canvas sneakers, the soles practically falling off.

She was lugging a bag of apples.

She'd cranked the "poor college student" filter all the way up—milking the act for everything it was worth.

When she…