But Diana wanted to go to the bonfire. The Fourth of July existed solely for the tourists, so the Waters clan claimed the third for a beach bonfire for their friends. I remembered most of the bonfire from two years ago, but last year’s bonfire memory was Swiss cheese. I hadn’t even considered going until Diana burst into my room.
“I know it’s only been a month since Win . . .” Diana paused, then rushed through to her next thought. “It’s only been a month but it would mean a lot to me if you went. I mean, not just me, but everybody. To see you out there—it means that we’ll survive this, you know?” She abandoned my closet and sat on my bed and curled her arms over her knees. “And I think not only for us, but for you—you haven’t been anywhere in weeks, Ari.”
“I go to work. And to class.” Not true; I hadn’t been to class since I fell, the day after the spell. Lies, lies, lies.
“And then you come right home. You sit with me and Kay for forty-five minutes, maybe an hour, and then the look on your face when you can kick us out . . . You’re relieved.” Diana shook her head. “I miss you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re going through stuff. But I don’t want you to think you’re alone.” She shrugged, self-conscious. “You’ve always got me.”
“I know.”
“And Kay, too.”
“Right. Kay.”
Diana jumped up and rooted around for a couple shirts, which she tossed at me. “Try these on.”
I hugged the shirts to my chest. “I don’t know if I can go, Diana.”
“I’m pretending I didn’t just hear that. La la la la.” She plugged her ears until her eyes fell on my wrist, red from all the times I’d pinched it. Then she dropped her hands and looked serious. “Ari, are you—is everything okay?”
I was fine in the way she was asking about, and miserable in ways I couldn’t tell her.
“Let’s have a movie night instead,” I said. “We haven’t had a movie night in weeks.”
Diana shook her head, half smiling. “We haven’t had a movie night in over a year.”
“We haven’t?” I shook off my confusion and tried to look sad. “Oh, right, sorry, of course. Win . . .”
“You guys always did homework on Sundays.”
“Right. Well, let’s bring movie night back.”
Diana bit her lip. “But I want to go to the bonfire.”
“Come on, Diana. Why do you care so much?”
“Why don’t you care at all?” Diana shot back.
Because I didn’t remember enough to care. The bonfire belonged to Old Ari. I wanted to be left alone.
But I couldn’t say that to Diana, and normally, I wouldn’t have to. She’d never argued with me like that before. The Diana I remembered usually did what I wanted to do, back when I actually wanted to do anything. When we became friends in fourth grade, she didn’t call me until we’d been hanging out at each other’s house every day for six months. She cried easily and hated conflict—normally I’d have to push her to express an opinion so I knew I wasn’t steamrolling her. She wasn’t the type to take charge.
This Diana seemed different. More forceful, and then there was her hair, which she’d dyed bright red a week or two after the funeral. I didn’t understand what had happened. The hair was weird enough—she hadn’t even consulted me before doing it, and something that big should’ve been worthy of discussion. I wanted to ask her why she’d done it, but I was afraid it was something I should know already, and admitting I didn’t would mean admitting everything else I couldn’t remember.
“Your hair,” I said. “I keep forgetting and then being surprised again.”
Diana twisted a red strand around her finger and pulled it forward to look at it. “You know what’s funny? I got used to it right away. Like my hair had always been red underneath the mousy blond.”
“It looks good.”
“Stop trying to change the subject. Why don’t you want to go?”
“I’m . . . nervous about seeing everyone,” I said.
“Come on, it’s the Waters bonfire, and everyone loves you,” she said, elbowing me gently. “Plus, you have to humor me—Markos will be there.”
“Oh, Diana,” I said, groaning.
“What?” she asked. “Can’t a girl dream?”
“Markos is great, but he treats girls so bad.”
Diana laughed. “You just said he was great! How can he be great and also bad?”
“Context.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll probably ignore me like he has hundreds of times before. But you should come and be my moral support anyway, don’t you think?”
I no longer remembered how or why I became friends with Markos, but I knew we were in each other’s corner. He was fun and less of an asshole than he seemed—but I wasn’t dating him. Diana was too sweet and sheltered; if they got together he’d hurt her without even realizing it. She needed someone serious and kind like she was. “Isn’t there literally anyone else on the planet you could have a crush on?”