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great idea.”
    “Because?” I swirl my finger in mid-air forming a question mark.
    She laughs. “Because you need to get out and let off some steam.” Marla leans in closer. “Have some fun. Break the rules again. Tally, you need to get laid.”
    “Probably so,” I say tartly. “But that is not an option that I’m willing to take on at this particular moment in time.” I frown and recall my last questionable hook-up in St. Thomas all those weeks ago. I never told Marla about that one; I didn’t need the lecture. “I just don’t feel anything right now. I think it needs to be that way…to survive this.”
    Marla allows for a long protracted silence. We both still struggle with the firm grip that grief over Holly manages to keep a hold on us both.
    “Besides, I hate baseball, and I won’t know anybody else at this party.” I brush back my hair, hoping for nonchalance, and start emptying my locker out. Graduation can’t come soon enough.
    “That’s the best part. It will be all these people that Charlie knows. No one from Paly. Older guys. Older crowd. College guys. You could lose yourself a little. Lose your story.” Marla frowns. “ Come with me . I want…I need…to see Charlie.”
    “Why? He’s just going to hurt you again. And he drives too fast. There’s really no point in getting attached to someone who drives too fast, now is there?”
    She glares at me. Her eyes are a lighter green than mine more like a dusty sage-green, but they darken when she’s mad. My morbidity has that kind of effect on people. I blow air out of my mouth and sidestep the guilt for a few minutes in saying something so cruel like this aloud. We’ve talked about Charlie Masterson’s driving skills before. I try to diffuse the bomb of this particular discussion by saying, “Why don’t you go out with a guy who drives a Volvo or something?” I don’t know why that idea popped into my head, and then I spy Rob Thorn as he slowly saunters past us. Marla looks clearly disenchanted with my attitude. What else is new? Everybody is. “Sorry,” I tack on. “I shouldn’t have said that about Charlie’s driving. I’m such a bitch. I’m sorry.”
    Marla sighs. “Why do you have to be so cynical? Maybe Charlie wants to see me for me this time. Maybe he’s grown up. Maybe he doesn’t drive as fast anymore.”
    “That’s a lot of maybes.”
    “He’s been away at UCLA for three years. That can change a person, you know. College .”
    “You think college changes people, Marla? That’s what you’re going with here?” I briefly glance over at Rob Thorn, who is eight lockers away from us. He’s eavesdropping on our conversation and has this solicitous look. I glare at him and turn my attention back to my best friend.
    “I want to see him. I do ,” she says when I roll my eyes again. “It’s been long enough, and we have our own plans for New York after graduation. I wish Tremblay didn’t commit us to the two workshop performances right off the bat after we get there, but what do I know? I want a chance to say good-bye to him one last time.” She sweeps her hand around, encompassing the expansive hallway, and gets this determined look. “But most of all, you’re my best friend, and you have to come with me. It’s an unwritten rule.” She laughs and squeezes my arm. “Come on. Come with me. I need you to be there with me. I have to see him. I want to.”
    “I have pointe class tonight. So do you.”
    Allaire Tremblay could not care less that it’s Friday night before the long Memorial Day weekend. She expects us to be there; and, since her influence is pivotal to our return to SAB and New York by the middle of June, I am beholden to making Tremblay’s class. Marla? Not so much . I can tell by the unwavering look upon her face that I will be going with her to Charlie Masterson’s party, too. I suppose it’s possible that Marla is absolutely right and maybe what I really need to do is get good and drunk and