It's not that Clarisse has never seen this look on Abby's face before, but having it directed toward her is new. It doesn't feel great. If Abby had left things at "this is my room," it wouldn't have been okay, but she wouldn't have been mad about it—she's passed annoyance and landed somewhere in pathetic desperation when it comes to the idea of Abby forgetting her, maybe forever—

but she just can't let the comment about the sketchbook slide.

"This isn't your book." She squeezes it even tighter against her chest in case Abby tries to grab it from her. Abby's book, the fuck? It wasn't under Abby's bed, was it?