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now-giggling waitresses an amused grin. He looks back down, and then sna ps his eyes up. To meet mine.
    He half-smiles and there’s this pull, like we’re opposite poles inside a magnetic field. Like we’re sharing a story in a two-second glance. I almost walk toward him.
    â€œEverybody wants him, but he’s like, not interes—” Nat stops, mouth open, eyebrows up. Yanking me outside by my elbow, she grins wide. “Did you see that?”
    â€œWhat?” I look around, pretending to be confused. It takes everything in my power not to look back, to see if our eyes would lock again.
    â€œHe was totally checking you out.”
    â€œPfft. Right.”
    â€œAnna, come on. He was staring. And he flashed that adorable dimple. There was a spark.”
    Her voice catches for a quarter of a second. I know she’s thinking about how today is supposed to be a mix of sad and hopeful. Nat’s empathy goes beyond measure, which is why she’s plugging her tear ducts with her pinkie fingers.
    â€œA spark?” I fan my face. “Oh my stars, I’m burning so bright.”
    â€œYour Southern accent sucks,” she says, rolling her eyes and walking across short green grass toward the long line of white linen-covered tables. “We’re on buffet duty. I promise I’ll find a reason for you to head back into the kitchen soon, though.”
    I mutter, “Whatever,” and walk toward the chafing dishes, trying to forget the eyes that just clicked with mine.
    â€œDon’t ‘whatever’ me. It’s time to start, like, experiencing the good things in life again, Anna.”
    Gone is the phony pretend-everything-is-fine routine. Nat’s invading a place reserved for my parents and shrinks. She does not get to do this. Not today.
    â€œWhy,” I ask between clenched teeth, “are you pushing this?”
    A man comes up to the buffet table, lifts one of the pan lids, sniffs, makes a face, and walks away.
    Nat stirs some saucy junk around and tugs out a mascara-heavy eyelash. She wipes her hands on a napkin before answering.
    â€œWe’re about to be seniors.” She says “seniors” like it is the greatest novelty on earth. “Today is supposed to mark the end of this. I don’t care if you want to keep channeling Patti Smith. I don’t even care if you continue to turn your bed into a coffin at least once a day. We still need to move forward.”
    She blinks at me, adjusting her acting mask until it’s once again snug against her olive skin.
    â€œAnyway, I’m just saying, that boy in there is, like, the hottest ticket of the summer and he was completely checking you out.”
    â€œGetting sick of dealing with me, are you? You picked a perfect day to let me know it. Sorry, I don’t think dating is on the five stages of grief pamphlet. I’m not like you. I can’t fall for a boy just because he played Danny in Grease the Musical freshman year. So I apologize, for being screwed up and for not believing I’ll find my ‘life’s co-star’ in high school.”
    I stick my finger in the back of my throat.
    â€œAlex has nothing to do with this,” Nat says of her on-again, off-again boyfriend. She moves down the buffet table. “And I’m not sick of you. I just—”
    â€œForget it.”
    â€œYou always interrupt people,” she says, flicking her hand up. “‘Forget it’ is right. I’m going to see if I can switch with someone doing app rounds. Stay here and be miserable.”
    When she stomps across the lawn, I don’t try to follow. A year ago, this never would have happened. I can almost remember how it felt, to be the one full of patience, charm, faith in the universe. I can almost taste that girl inside me. But I can’t make her come back, and Nat, of all people, knows it.
    So I guess it makes sense. Today is a remembering kind of day and