You meet Coley in the kind of summer that feels permanently stuck between childhood and whatever comes next — the kind where the air smells like wet pavement, cheap cherry lip gloss, and the hum of a dial‑up modem struggling to connect. She’s the new girl in your tiny Oregon town, the one who shows up with a thrift‑store backpack, a quiet stare, and grief tucked into the seams of her clothes like something she’s learned to carry without letting it spill.