“I should go,” Jack says suddenly.

“What? Why? Work again?” Sophia tilts her head.

“No. I just don’t want to get in the way of any girl talk.”

“Periods,” I say to Sophia immediately. “Huge, bloody periods.”

“Tampons!” She shouts.

Jack pushes past us, and out the door. “I’m going to get something to eat. I’ll be back.”

When he’s gone, Sophia turns to me.

“So? What’s up?”

I hold out the silver bracelet. It jingles faintly in the air. Her blue eyes widen, and she reaches out, reverently, to take it. She strokes the name engraved on it with her thumb.

“Tallie,” she whispers.

“I couldn’t bring back…um. The rest of her. I mean, that’s her grave, so that’s where she should stay, you know? That’s where she rests. But I thought you’d like the bracelet.”

Sophia’s quiet for a long time. She traces the bracelet chain over and over. Just as I start to feel awkward for staying, she raises her voice.

“Jack got it for me. After it happened. It’s nice to have it back.”

I try to smile, but it comes out crooked.

“It’s been with her for years, now,” she continues. “In the ground, with her. I could see her, or visit her. But now it’s with me.”

“Now she’s with you,” I offer. Sophia looks up, eyes wet, and flings her arm around my neck.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. Let me make it up to you, okay? I really wanna make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to, actually, I know things have been really hard? And like, your life is hard? So I don’t want to make it extra hard?”

“You won’t be! Avery’s doing the entire party, so I won’t be doing anything stressful. All you have to do is wear something ‘rad’, or whatever, and come!”

“Uh, historically I haven’t had the greatest experience at Avery’s parties.”

“Neither have I,” She reminds me. “But it’s my birthday party, and she’s promised to behave herself. And I’ll be there, so I’ll keep an eye on her. I’d just like it if you came. Wren’s coming, and so is Jack. And a bunch of other people who I was supposed to go to school with, so like, most of your class.”

“Big party?”

“Huge! And there’s a cake, and a DJ, and please, please come!”

Her face is shining, in the same way it used to shine when I’d make her laugh, back at the beginning. Back when I first came here.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright. I’ll come.”

Sophia smiles, relief carving her features.

“Awesome. Okay, it’s on the 28th, up at her house. It’s supposed to start at seven, but you should arrive fashionably late, because the booze is also arriving fashionably late.”

“You know me too well.”

Sophia shakes her head, and laughs.

“I thought I did. But, no. No, Isis. I don’t know you at all.”

-11-

3 Years

31 Weeks

1 Day

Avery’s house is familiar in all the wrong ways. I park in the same place I always do – easy to back out and easy to drive away fast if I gotta. The music is thumping across the lawn, down into the street, and permeating the gated community. It bounces off the trees and the dozens of cars parked haphazardly in her yard. People are already drunkenly stumbling out of the front door, lying on the lawn, wrestling with each other and chasing each other with toilet paper and the hose.

I smooth my shirt one last time. It’s the Florence and the Machine one I wore here the first time, and I didn’t even realize I was wearing it until I got in the car. My jeans are frayed on the thighs – not because I bought them at some high boutique that purposefully frayed them – but because I’d eaten pavement so many times on my bike back when I was losing weight. The cool air on my thighs through the fray reminds me how broken the jeans are, and why they’re broken, and how I broke them myself. I did it. I broke them, but I can still wear them, and they work just fine at what they’re supposed to do – cover my fabulous butt.

Things are broken, but they still work.

I get out and pull my jacket closer to me. It’s bitter cold. Did spring not get the memo? Does spring ever get memos? What are they written on, leaves? Petals? The carcass of a newborn deer?

“Getting maudlin this early in the night, are we?”

I look up. Jack’s standing there, in a preposterously gross leather jacket and dark jeans. Wren’s standing by him, looking a little shook up in his usual plaid shirt.

“It’s sort of my job,” I say. “Provide the searing atmosphere, throw a few shallow but well-meaning compliments, mutter to myself, maybe break a bottle or two.”

“Please don’t break a bottle,” Wren wrings his hands. “We’ve had three people cut themselves already.”

“Whoa, what’s that on your chest, prez?” I blurt. A little golden star pin that has the number one on it is tacked to his shirt. His glasses slide off as he looks at it, and he pushes them up.

“Um. Just something Sophia gave me. From when…from when –”

“Is that the math rally pin?” Jack interrupts. “Wow. I didn’t know she still had it.”

“Neither did I,” Wren lets out a half-laugh. “I mean, I thought she got rid of it a long time ago.”

“Math rally pin?” I ask. Jack nods.

“Back in the day, Wren and Sophia competed in this math rally. They were really into it, invested like only competitive smart kids can get. They studied for weeks, months. Sophia wanted to win so badly. But Wren did. They tied, technically, but the judges gave it to Wren for some extra calculation he did.”

“Sophia was furious at me,” Wren says. “She wouldn’t talk to me for a whole month. So I gave her the pin, and she started crying, and said to not be so nice to her.”

Jack laughs, low, and Wren shakes his head, a wistful smile on his face. It’s a history I’m not a part of, but it gives me a warm feeling just to see them remember that time when they were all friends, and close, and cared for each other, without the darkness between them.

“Look, I’m gonna go get a mood-fluid. Thirst burst. Flavor savor.”

Wren and Jack raise their eyebrows in sync, and I laugh.

“A drink. I’ll be back.”

I recognize a lot of people – not just Avery’s group is here. She’s invited the not-populars; Wren’s student government friends, the band kids, the hipsters, even Knife-kid. And I know he didn’t just sneak in this time like he usually does, because I see Avery nod at him as she passes, instead of curling her lip.

“Being civil? Color me surprised,” I say. Avery looks me over. Her hair is straight and glossy again, her skin perfect and makeup on-point. She looks much, much better than usual.

“Sophia wanted me to be nice. And I figured, hell, I can do it once in my life. It might kill me, but I’ll do it for the sake of getting to say I did. I was nice.” She ponders this, and sighs. “Should’ve put that on my college resume. They love nice people.”

I chuckle. “Yeah. Most people like nice people. Good thing I’m not most people.”