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requirements from each of them just last week. It’s a little late to be just starting this process,
     but it shouldn’t be a problem. Well, you’ll probably have to account for some things on your permanent record, but… really…
     you were never charged with… well, you know what I mean.”
    I nodded. I knew what she meant. Not that it needed to be on my permanent record, because I pretty much couldn’t think of
     anyone in the country who hadn’t heard of me by now. I was like best friends with the world. Or maybe worst enemies. “I changed
     my mind,” I said.
    “Oh. A different school? Shouldn’t be a problem. With your grades…”
    “No, I mean I’m not going. To college.”
    Mrs. Tate leaned forward, resting her hand on the wrapper again. She was frowning at me. “Not going?”
    “Right. I don’t want to anymore.”
    She spoke softly: “Listen, Valerie. I know you blame yourself for what happened. I know you think you’re just like him. But
     you’re not.”
    I sat up straighter and tried to smile confidently. This was not a conversation I wanted to get into today, of all days. “Really,
     Mrs. Tate, you don’t have to say this,” I said. I touched my back pocket with the picture of Nick and me at Blue Lake in it
     for reassurance. “I mean, I’m okay and everything.”
    Mrs. Tate held up a hand and looked me straight in the eye. “I spent more time with Nick than with my own son most days,”
     she said. “He was such a searcher. Always so angry. He was one of those kids who was just going to struggle through life.
     He was so consumed with hate. Ruled by it, really.”
    No
, I wanted to shout at her.
No he wasn’t. Nick was good. I saw it.
    I was struck with a memory of the night Nick had shown up at my house unexpectedly just as Mom and Dad began to rev up for
     their usual after-dinner bitchfest. I could feel it coming: Mom slamming plates into the dishwasher, mumbling under her breath,
     and Dad pacing the floor between the living room and the kitchen, eyeing Mom and shaking his head. The tension was building
     and I’d begun to get that tired feeling I’d had so often lately, wishing I could just go to bed and wake up in a different
     house, a different life. Frankie had already disappeared into his room and I wondered if he got that tired feeling, too.
    I was just climbing the stairs to my bedroom when the doorbell rang. I could see Nick through the window next to the door,
     shifting his weight from foot to foot.
    “I’ll get it!” I hollered to my parents as I ran back down the stairs, but the argument had already started and they didn’t
     notice.
    “Hey,” I’d said, stepping out on the front porch. “What’s up?”
    “Hey,” he said back. He’d held out a CD. “I brought this,” he said. “I burned it for you this afternoon. It’s all the songs
     that make me think about you.”
    “That’s so sweet,” I said, reading the back of the case, where he’d carefully typed all of the titles and artists of the songs.
     “I love it.”
    On the other side of the door, we could hear Dad’s voice getting closer. “You know, maybe I
won’t
come home, Jenny, that’s a great idea,” he was growling. Nick looked at the door, and I could swear I saw embarrassment creep
     through his face. And something else. Pity, maybe? Fear? Maybe that same weariness I felt?
    “Want to get out of here?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It doesn’t sound too good in there. We can hang together
     for a while.”
    I nodded, opening the door a crack and dropping the CD on the table in the foyer. Nick reached out and grabbed my hand, leading
     me to the field behind my house. We found a clearing and sprawled on our backs in the grass, looking at the stars, talking
     about… anything, everything.
    “You know why we get along so well, Val?” he asked after a while. “Because we think just alike. It’s like we have the same
     brain. It’s cool.”
    I stretched,