How can you even say that?”
“Julian, you were jealous of him, and, Sasha, you were mad because he made a fool of you.”
“He didn’t make a fool of me,” Sasha interrupted. “I would never kill anybody, and neither would Julian. We’re not the kind of people who kill people, Allie. Any more than you are. Did you load the gun?”
“No, of course not.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You know I am. I was afraid of the gun. It scared me.”
“Of course it did.” Sasha snickered. “You were afraid of the big scary gun because you’re so sweet and nice.”
“And you were excited by the gun,” Allie shot back, angry.
“You’re damn right I was! You wanna know why? Because it was fucking exciting!” Sasha raised her voice. “That’s why I don’t live here anymore. That’s why I left Wake Forest. All the girls were from suburbs like Bakerton. Their lives were small and so were their minds. Like yours, Allie.”
“Look, there’s no need for that.” Allie tried to get back on track. “I just want to know what happened.”
“We can’t know, it’s too late.” Julian puckered his lower lip. “Kyle and David are dead. Allie, you need to let it go.”
“Let it go? Come on. If you didn’t load the gun, don’t you wonder who did?”
“I wondered in high school,” Julian answered coolly. “But not anymore.”
“Why? What stopped you from wondering?”
“Time. Maturity.” Julian shook his head. “I can’t even remember what happened that night, for sure. My memory’s in bits and pieces. It skips, which is typical after something that upsetting. It’s called ‘traumatic memory,’ I read about it online. The brain remembers some things but forgets others. The latest thinking is that it forgets things in order to remember others.”
“Wow.” Sasha nodded, impressed. “Traumatic memory. I bet that’s true because there’s a lot I don’t remember from that night.”
Allie suppressed an eye roll. “Sasha, how do you know that you don’t remember things, if you don’t remember things? I remember a lot.”
“I don’t,” Julian interjected. “Anyway, traumatic memory is different for everyone. I read that, too. Everyone’s brain chemistry is different. Like, I still can’t remember who handed Kyle the gun.”
“Really?” Allie asked, skeptical. “You did, Julian. You handed Kyle the gun.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Julian shook his head again. “I remember David did.”
Sasha nodded. “I remember David handing him the gun, too.”
“No, Julian did, and David was with me.” Allie felt like they were gaslighting her. “Julian, you had the gun. The gun was your thing, not David’s.”
Sasha shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I can’t swear to anything that happened that night. It has to be because of traumatic memory, and I was drunk. So were you, Allie. You really went for it. You were totally out of it.”
“She’s right, Allie.” Julian frowned. “I was, too. I remember feeling my eyes were blurry, and it was so dark—”
“And raining,” Sasha interrupted.
“Yes, pouring.” Julian looked over at Sasha. “See? I totally forgot that.”
But Allie hadn’t forgotten. She’d been wasted that night, but still. “The weather isn’t the point.”
Julian sighed. “Look. Allie, I know you’re upset, and I used to be, too. It’s awful what happened. It’s a tragedy, for sure. But I can’t explain what happened. I don’t know, and neither does Sasha. You have to be satisfied with that. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Allie recoiled. “It does to me, and I bet it does to Kyle’s mother. Don’t you think she’s still grieving? Don’t you think she’d want to know that Kyle thought it was a prank?” She turned to Sasha. “Sasha, what about you? Kyle played Russian Roulette for you. Don’t you feel guilty?”
“I’m not why he did it, Allie. His father is why.” Sasha dropped the cigarette butt and ground it out with her Louboutin. “And if you ask me, I personally think Kyle hoped the gun was loaded. He was depressed. His mother said so in the newspaper. He wanted to kill himself.”
“I don’t think that,” Allie shot back.
“I do.” Sasha frowned.
Julian interjected again, “We’ll never know. We can’t know the answer to that.”
“Oh, come on.” Allie raised her voice. “David didn’t think Kyle wanted to kill himself.”
“How do you know?” Julian asked, blinking.
“He was upset that night. Did you ever talk to him about Kyle?”
“I told you, no.”
“Then why do you think David committed suicide?”
“Hello, were we at the same funeral?” Julian snorted. “David was a closeted gay man with a pregnant wife. He never became a novelist like that author he