After we finish our coffees, we head over to the Whole Foods Market on 15th Ave. Kitty got all flustered when Jade gave her the receipt but refused to let her pay the bill. It was folded in two, and I bet he wrote down his phone number for her.

He has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

She acted like she wasn’t interested, but she slipped the folded receipt into her bag when she thought I wasn’t looking. She’s been unusually quiet ever since.

As we walk down the long aisles stacked with a rainbow of organic peppers and fruit, Kitty mumbles about how hard it is shopping for the boys. Lyall and Ben will eat anything, but Elliot only eats low-carb high protein, Alastaire won’t let anything but the finest delicacies taint his refined palate, and Felix always checks labels for MSG and food dyes and throws away anything that doesn’t meet his rigorous standards.

Which is why we’re shopping at Whole Foods, and not the infinitely cheaper supermarket across the way. Not that I’m complaining mind you – I’m addicted to their lemon yogurt.

We shop without speaking, each lost in our own thoughts until Kitty breaks the silence.

“What do you want, Ash?” she asks.

“You mean… from here?” I ask, confused by the sudden question. “I’ve already put some yogurt and strawberries in t–”

“No,” she says, suddenly stopping in the middle of the aisle. “I mean, what do you want from us? Out of this whole thing you’re doing with the boys? I know we said we’ll pass on your demo songs to Fable’s manager, and you’ll obviously get some recognition for working on the new album… but what then? Your band gets signed and you become some kind of star? Is that really what you want?”

Several people trying to push past us in the aisle shoot dirty glances at Kitty, but she’s oblivious.

“Do you really think all of this is going to make you happy?” She asks.

“I don’t know what to say,’ I answer, trying to speak quietly so the other shoppers don’t hear our conversation. “It’s not exactly about… happiness or anything. It’s just something I have to do. Making it as a professional musician had been my dream for as long as I can remember. My only dream, actually. It can’t just be a co-incidence that you all entered my life the way you did. It’s not about fame or money or anything… I just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

Then there’s also the other weird stuff that’s been happening, which I’m sure is somehow connected to Fable – the shadows, the snake, the dreams – but I wouldn’t even know where to begin with that.

“I don’t get why you’re asking me this,” I say. “I mean, you’re then one who convinced me to stick it out in the first place, after I said I didn’t want to be involved.”

“Yes, I remember,” Kitty says thoughtfully, as she pushes the trolley down the aisle, scanning the shelves as I follow behind. “None of those boys is happy, you know. They might look like they’re doing ok, but they’ve all had to build such high walls, it’s like each one of them is trapped inside their own castle. Everyone wants in all the time. The fans, the managers, sponsors, even other celebs looking to boost their own fame. They have to put up a barrier, every second, to keep everyone else out.”

“I think I can relate to that,” I say, placing a bag of golden honeycrisp apples into the trolley.

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“Of course you can,” Kitty says. “I think that’s why Felix chose you. You get it. Everyone’s always trying to break down his walls. But not you. You’re hiding away behind walls of your own.”

She doesn’t sound sad as she says it, more matter-of-fact. Like this is something she’s been thinking about for a while. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. I wait for her to carry on.

“I’m sorry Ash, I know I’m talking in circles,” Kitty says. “I guess I just wonder sometimes if I really did make the right decision convincing you to stay and help with the album. Going down this path isn’t going to help you find happiness, or meaning, or answers, or whatever it is you’re looking for. The music industry can destroy a person. If anything, if BYG Records likes your demo and you get signed or something… your walls are just going to get higher and higher. Do you know what I mean?”

A red-haired lady loading up her cart with several plump green cabbages a few feet from us is side-eying Kitty, and has probably been listening in on the whole thing. I don’t blame her. It’s way too intense and heavy for a grocery store aisle conversation anyway, but Kitty seems totally unfazed. She carries on talking, loading up the trolley with gluten-free dumplings and five huge frozen apple pies.

“Even with the walls, they can’t keep everyone out,” Kitty continues. “Every aspect of their lives is controlled. That’s why they’re doing this whole thing. Hiding out. It’s the first time in years they’ve had control over their own music.”

I shake my head, trying to imagine a life where every decision is made by some manager.

“It doesn’t stop at the music,” she says. “BYG Records controls everything. From what they wear, to what they eat. You know the boys can’t publicly have girlfriends?”

“What about Zara Quinn?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. The memory of Alastaire showing me the photo of Felix’s arms around the starlet at a party flashes through my mind. It’s not like their relationship was news to me though – they’ve been the paparazzo’s favorite on-and-off couple for the past two years. But a part of me wanted to think it was all made up, an act, for show.

“The thing with Zara is complicated,” Kitty says, looking thoughtful as she glides down the frozen foods aisle. “If there’s nothing going on between you and my brother, why do you even care?”

“I don’t care,” I say too quickly, hoping Kitty doesn’t notice the hitch in my voice.

“Uh huh, sure thing,” she says. “You like him though, don’t you?”

She turns around, and stares at me, waiting for an answer. For once, my face doesn’t go red. I can feel it turning white. Because right behind Kitty, a middle-aged woman with curly black hair in a messy bun is placing a tub of ice cream in her trolley. Her husband is crossing something off a shopping list.

Mia’s parents.

“Susan,” I say, my voice coming out as a croak. “Jeremy.”

They look up, meeting my eyes, and their faces turn as white as mine.

I used to see them all the time before the accident. They were family friends, which is how I met Mia in the first place. Susan and my mom were BFFs at chef school, and I always thought it was kind of cool that I was besties with my mom’s best friend’s daughter.

Our two families were always together – 4th of July barbeques, camping trips up the coast, Christmas Eve, you name it. They basically were family.

Since the accident though, Susan and Jeremy have been like strangers. In fact, I haven’t seen them once since the night of the candlelight vigil. I can’t believe how much older they look since then. It’s like they’ve both aged twenty years, although it’s only been two.

I take a step towards them, and Susan’s shocked expression suddenly hardens into a cold, stiff mask. She abruptly pushes her trolley past me, without even looking back. Jeremy stops in front of me, running his hand shakily through his salt and pepper hair.

“I’m… sorry, I really am… we just… can’t…” he says, before hurrying after his wife.

There were tears in his eyes.

I stand still in the middle of the aisle, feeling like I’ve just been drenched with ice cold water. I’m sure the bystanders must be staring at me, and I vaguely wonder if any of them saw the whole thing.

After being publicly brushed off and ignored like that, I should be feeling embarrassed. Humiliated.

But all I feel is a piercing sorrow. And a new, fierce determination.

“Ash… are you ok?” Kitty asks, placing her hand on my elbow.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I say. “We need to make a detour before we go back to the cabin. There’s something I have to do.”

Something I haven’t done in a long, long, time.

I’m going to visit Mia’s grave.