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When I get back to my room, Dina is sitting on my bed.

“Jesus, you scared me!”

“Sorry,”

she says. And then she sneezes.

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.”

She sneezes again.

“Are you sick?”

She shakes her head. “It’s always allergy season for me, remember?”

How could I forget? Dina wasn’t just allergic to food; she was allergic to dust, seasons, animals. She had to take a pill before she could come over or her eyes would go all puffy just at the sight of Mr. Fluff. On high-pollen-count days, she wasn’t allowed to play outside at recess. In elementary school, I would stay with her in the library. I kind of loved those days when we had the books all to ourselves and were granted special dispensation to break the no-eating-in-the-stacks rule.

“I’m so glad you came back,”

I say. “I was scared you wouldn’t.”

“Why would you think that?”

Dina in ninth grade, eating at the lunch table designated for kids with allergies. Alone. Dina, sitting in the library. Alone.

But no, that was ages ago. And Dina had come to see me. She wouldn’t be here if that still bothered her. I’m sure she’s forgotten all about it. We aren’t kids anymore, after all.

“Are you still grounded?”

she asks me.

“For eternity, it would seem.”

“Eternity is a long time,”

Dina says.

“Is it? Recent experience suggests otherwise.”

“You’re funny,”

she says. “You stopped being funny for a while.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“You kind of did. You were always worried what other people thought.”

It’s the kind of observation that should sting but doesn’t. Maybe that’s one of the benefits of maturity—if you can mature when you’re dead. Also, it’s hard not to recognize some truth in it.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I was a kid.”

And it’s funny because a few days ago, I still felt like teenage , but now, it’s like maybe I’m catching up to myself.

“I found Calvin,” she says.

“You did?”

She nods. “I know where he lives. I can take you.”

She gestures to the window.

“What, like now?”

“Yeah, why not?”

I hesitate. “My parents don’t want anyone to find out about me. They don’t know I saw Calvin and I haven’t told them that you’ve been coming over. I don’t want to make trouble.”

All this is true but it’s not why I’m hedging. Five minutes after I messaged Casey, I got a bad feeling, the way I always used to when I did something impulsive. But it’s too late now. I have to let it play out. And hopefully Casey will send Melissa Calvin’s contact info and I’ll invite him to the party, where he can see me with other people and believe it’s me, and it’ll be less fraught than before.

“Don’t worry about me,”

Dina says. “I won’t get in trouble.”

“But I might, if someone sees us.”

“No one will see us,”

she promises.

“Maybe we should wait,”

I say. “For Calvin to come to me.”

“Suit yourself,”

she says. “I thought you wanted me to help you.”

“I do. It’s just . . .”

“What?”

I hesitate for a moment and then I tell Dina how earlier, I sent a message to Casey asking for Calvin’s details.

Dina’s brow furrows. “Contacting Casey Locke was a really foolish thing to do,”

she says in a quiet voice.

“I didn’t do it as me. I was on Melissa’s account. I’m not dumb.”

“You don’t think Casey will think it’s odd that Melissa is reaching out after seven years?”

“Casey already thinks Melissa is weird.”

Though weird wasn’t the word she used. Loser was what she said. Pathetic. Embarrassment. Casey always said it was a good thing that Melissa and I were so far apart in age because having her at the same school as me would damage my reputation. “I don’t think Casey would put it together.”

“Well, you knew her better than I ever did.”

I get that bad feeling again. I did know Casey well. She was my best friend, but I never fully trusted her. I kept things from her, about me and Calvin, especially. But Dina I trust, even after all these years, even after what I did to her. And she wants to help me fix things.

I open the window. A warm blast of air rattles the shades. Dina sneezes. I climb through and turn back toward her. “C’mon,”

I say. “Time to get life back on track.”

Casey

Seven Years Before

Casey’s mom was wearing a brand-new diamond ring. “Your father gave it to me,”

she said, holding her hand out to Casey. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

Casey nodded and faked a smile. Both she and her mother knew Casey’s father was not even a little bit sweet. The diamond was a transaction. Her father slept around and paid for her mother’s acceptance in carats.

It was a huge diamond. Maybe two carats. He must have gotten caught big-time.

If Casey ever got married—and that was a very big if—she was never going to be in her mom’s position, which was to say the one with none of the chips. Her mom had been her father’s secretary who’d given up her job once she snagged a husband. The woman was a walking, talking cliché of what not to do: a simpering wimp who swallowed his bad behavior so long as she had pretty baubles. No wonder her dad cheated. Given the choice, Casey would so much rather be the cheater than the cheated on.

Was this why she didn’t feel guilty about Calvin? Even that first time, when she’d asked him to come over. It was the day after they’d all gone ice-skating, and Alexa zooming ahead, leaving her and Calvin to trip their way across the ice together. Cal, I have an important question about , she’d texted that next day. Need to discuss in person.

After she’d kissed him, had she felt guilty? Nope. She’d felt powerful, watching the blood rush to his face—and to parts farther south, judging by the bulge in his pants. He’d started to leave, turning toward the door before suddenly doubling back and pushing Casey against the wall, kissing her like he wanted to swallow her alive.

Looking at her mother’s ring now, she did the requisite oohing and aahing before going upstairs. Come over, she texted Calvin.

“This is not happening again,”

Calvin had said as he’d buttoned his pants after that first time. “It’s wrong.” He said that every time now. They shouldn’t be doing this. was his girlfriend. was Casey’s best friend. Blah blah blah. Like she didn’t know all that.

The thing was, she loved , she really did. This wasn’t about trying to hurt her. But had so much, more than her fair share, so Casey felt justified in taking a piece, the way the government felt justified in collecting more taxes from rich people, something her father complained about all the time.

Twenty minutes later, Calvin was at her house. He parked his car down the block, just to be sure no one saw him, and texted before he got to the door. Casey left the front door unlocked, and her mother didn’t notice Calvin enter over the blare of her TV.

They never spoke when he got there. He would walk in and they’d start kissing. And the kissing, well, was always bragging about how tender Calvin was, so soft a touch for such a big guy. The way he kissed Casey wasn’t tender at all. And that was fine. Casey didn’t want it to be. It was usually over pretty quickly. After, he asked her if she wanted him to do anything to finish her off. So chivalrous! But she always declined. That wasn’t the kind of satisfaction these after-school sessions gave her. So he’d go back into her bathroom to clean up, soap away their betrayal.

Today, after he went into the bathroom, Casey saw that his backpack had fallen off her desk chair, the contents spilling out. Casey didn’t really consider it snooping. It was her room. And the papers were just sitting there. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it was actually a big four-color brochure from a college, emblazoned Welcome. Casey knew the school, a small private college, not the big state university that said they were both attending.

Calvin came out of the bathroom and saw Casey crouched over his backpack. He looked at the papers, then at Casey. “Don’t tell .”

At first Casey thought he meant don’t tell her about them sleeping together, which she’d already assured him she had no desire, or reason, to do. But then he crammed the college brochure into his backpack and zipped it up with a violent tug.

Casey started to laugh. He wasn’t just cheating on with Casey. He was cheating on her with a college, too. had been yapping about her “forever plan”

with Calvin—same college, then marriage, graduate schools at different times—since the two had started dating. And now Calvin had applied to, and gotten in, somewhere else.

“Don’t you think she’s going to find out eventually?”

Casey said when she’d regained control.

“Yeah, but not from you,”

he said. “This is between me and .”

“Sounds like it’s not between you and ,”

she shot back.

“It’s none of your fucking business, you hear me?”

She did not appreciate the tone of his voice. “You do not get to tell me what to do,”

Casey said. She had to work so hard to keep her own voice blasé. “I am ’s best friend, and if I think there’s pertinent information, then I’ll—”

For as big as Calvin was, he was shockingly fast. In a single breath, he had taken her shoulders and shoved her against the wall. His face was close. She could smell the green-apple scent of her body wash, which he used to erase her, though if he wasn’t such a moron, he’d know that the fruity smell of the soap was a much bigger giveaway.

She thought he might kiss her. She closed her eyes but nothing happened. She opened them and saw his eyes, curdled with disgust.

In spite of her reputation, Calvin was the first guy she’d slept with, but in that moment, Casey decided that whenever people asked her about it, she would lie and say she had lost her virginity with her high school sweetheart after a dance.

Calvin pushed away, snatched his backpack, and left her room. Dramatic as his departure was, Casey knew he’d be back.

And he was, the very next morning. He parked in her driveway without texting first and pounded on the door. For a brief second, Casey thought he’d come to profess his love. She maybe even hoped for it.

All that was dashed when she opened the door. The look on Calvin’s face was pure hatred. Casey automatically stepped back into the foyer, shielding herself with the door, scared of what he might do to her.

“Did you tell her?”

Calvin screamed.

“Did I tell who what?”

she asked.

“!”

His voice cracked. “Did you tell her?”

knew. A prickle of electricity lit through Casey, eating up the empty space where hope had just lived.

Calvin stepped inside and grabbed her by the shoulders. He yanked her back and forth, hard. “Did you tell her?”

Her father had not yet left for work and hearing the hubbub, he came to the front door and saw Calvin shaking Casey. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

her father shouted. She heard the anger in his voice and translated it as love. Another bolt of electricity shot up her spine.

“Get your hands off her!”

her father yelled.

Casey could remember precisely one other occasion that her father had stuck up for her like this. Fifth grade. A softball game, Casey sliding into home plate as the umpire had called her out. Her father, who rarely came to games, had been there and made a scene. The umpire was an idiot. He was the father of a girl on the opposing team and biased. The umpire refused to amend the call and her father had taken her out for ice cream afterward as a consolation. The thing of it was, Casey had been out. She’d heard that thwap of the catcher’s glove closing around the ball before she crossed home plate. But by the time her spoon scraped the last bit of hot fudge out of the silver bowl, she’d managed to convince herself that she had been safe.

“Get the hell out of here,”

her father yelled at Calvin. And when he still didn’t move, her father punched him in the face.

The blow surprised Calvin more than it seemed to hurt him. He put his hand to his cheek as if unsure of what had happened. The skin under his eye was starting to swell.

As Calvin peeled out of their driveway, Casey started to cry. She looked to her father, expecting sympathy, but his face bore the same mask of disgust Calvin’s had. “You lie down with dogs, don’t be surprised when you get fleas,”

he told her.

It took her a minute to pull herself together so by the time she got to school, the first bell had rung, but there was a cluster of kids standing around the parking lot, crying. One of them was Alexa, who ran up to Casey and hugged her, crying, “Oh, Casey. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

Casey asked.