while that you liked him, and that would have made more sense. You know you can tell us if you do, right? We could talk about it, maybe help you—”
“We’re not in third grade.” I nearly yell it, but I can’t help it—Kirby’s theory is that absurd. A cluster of kids at the next lane over swivel their heads in our direction, and I lower my voice. “We’re not taunting each other because we secretly like each other. And that shouldn’t be a thing, anyway.”
“Fine. You’re not obsessed with McNair,” Kirby says flatly. “Can you remember the last time the three of us hung out?”
“I—” I break off when nothing comes to mind right away. Last weekend, McNair and I had to meet up with Logan to hand over some student council responsibilities. And the weekend before that, Mara was at a dance competition. Then we were studying for AP tests, and Mara and Kirby were at prom, and even farther back, I was with Spencer.…
“The senior auction,” I say. It was back in early May, but it still counts.
“A month ago,” Mara says. “And even then, you had to solve a crisis with him, and you abandoned us for most of the night.”
I rake my fingers through my bangs. “I’m sorry. It’s—you know how hectic the end of the year has been.…”
But I’m thinking about how I used to tell them everything, and yet they don’t know I’m writing a book. Mara’s pursuing an artistic career too, but we all know she’s a great dancer. There’s plenty of video evidence. All I could do to back myself up would be a tiny whispered confession: I think I could be good at this. A confession I’m now wishing I spilled the first time I closed a Delilah Park book and thought, Maybe I could do this one day too. Maybe I could write a book like that. Then there would be the need to convince them romance novels aren’t the garbage they think they are.
I think about my phone background again, the photo I’ve had there for nine whole months.
Have the three of us taken any photos since then?
“You talk about the three of us having this great last summer,” Mara continues, “and I’m sorry—you know we love you—but it’s a little hard to believe.”
Her words weigh me down, dragging my shoulders nearly to the floor. Our lane goes wobbly. My friends and I don’t ever argue like this. In my head, our relationship was rock solid. It can’t be true that in reality, it was crumbling.
“You guys keep playing,” I say, slipping off the bowling shoes. “I need to get some air.”
Several Occasions on Which I May Have
(Inadvertently) Abandoned My Friends for Neil McNair
NOVEMBER, JUNIOR YEAR
Kirby and I were in the same AP US History class, and Ms. Benson let us pick partners for an end-of-semester project. Kirby assumed we’d work together, but because I knew Ms. Benson did not buy into the bullshit “everyone in the group gets the same grade” philosophy, I locked eyes with McNair instead. We traded a nod that meant we were on the same page: we’d try to sabotage each other by working together. We each got a 98.
MARCH, JUNIOR YEAR
McNair and I stayed late after quiz bowl practice. We argued for so long about one of the answers that we got hungry and wound up continuing our debate at a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place down the block from school. He was so annoying that I could barely enjoy my veggie burrito. I was supposed to be at Mara and Kirby’s dance recital, but I lost track of time and only caught the second half.
SEPTEMBER, SENIOR YEAR
Kirby and Mara and I planned to go to the opening night of Kirby’s favorite Marvel franchise sequel, but I had to help student council tally the votes for president because it just wasn’t possible they were split exactly down the middle. By the time we finished counting and recounting at one a.m., it became clear that it was possible. And I had missed the movie.
MAY, SENIOR YEAR
It’s tradition for seniors to hold a silent auction every year to raise money for the school. Everyone in the senior class and their parents are invited to offer something—an item, an experience—and we make the rounds of the room to scribble down their bids. It’s pretty posh for public school. Kirby, Mara, and I dressed up and ate fancy food together most of the night—until a basket of high-end cheeses