Ava laughs. “Yeah, buddy.” Ava’s got a cute trace of a hoser accent, if you listen for it. “Did you have fun?”

“I did.” Gemma can say this. “I sat in the corner. I did nothing. One of the girls, she asked if I wanted to stay the night. I didn’t understand; they all had boyfriends.” She glances up at Ava. “I think fondly about that now, for obvious reasons. I could’ve stayed if I wanted. My dad wouldn’t have cared. But I was too scared. I liked being there, but I was too scared.”

“You were scared?”

Gemma is silent. Had Gemma believed in God that year? That might have been part of it. But she can’t remember. Her head is on Ava’s shoulder and she can feel her hair soaking with sweat. She says, “I didn’t see myself as a person in that room.” Ava kisses her head. “I understand.” “What about you?”

Ava pauses the TV. The faint sound of Olive in the kitchen comes through the door. She’s listening to music Gemma can’t place. Something new wavey? Is Olive singing along? That’s cute.

“I was fourteen,” Ava says. “My uncle, he liked the idea of … taking me under his wing or something? I dunno. He took me to a wedding party, buddy of his. Rented a bunch of cabins out by a lake. Girls my age were there. And my uncle,” Ava says darkly, “he said, ‘See anything you like?’ Wigs me out now, of course. But you know.”

“I do.”

“And I was already this tall back then, hey?” Ava says. “A girl sits beside me. She had a rumpled white button-up shirt—that’s what all the girls my age wore. Her name was Charlie.”

The tequila from last night is still beside the bed; Gemma drinks from it and sparkling lava drifts through her body. Gemma is the kind of addict who drinks when she feels awful and also when she feels very good. She puts her hand in Ava’s. “I’m listening.”

“At first, I didn’t understand this girl was drunk,” says Ava. “I’d only had a couple beers. She kept repeating, ‘You’re so nice! You’re so nice!’ Little later, she said, ‘Why don’t we lie down?’

“We went to the cabin I was sleeping in with my uncle. We were alone. I thought she’d asked to lie down because she wasn’t feeling well. She lay in bed. And I stood over her.” Ava swallows. “She had the prettiest body. Like her torso. I just remember looking at her middle and thinking, ‘You are perfect. You were made absolutely perfect.’ Maybe you understand this.” Ava bounces their interlaced hands. “She looked at me a certain way. It was then I realized, hey? Like, ‘Guess what, dummy, she didn’t say let’s lie down because she was tired.’”

Ava stops talking. Eventually, Gemma elbows her. “So come on, you fuck her?”

Ava gives her a dirty look.

“Sorry.”

“No,” Ava says. “I brought her a glass of water. I said ‘Are you okay?’ in the most pathetic, squeaky-ass little voice.”