“I mean, it doesn’t have to be all bad. You know? If she knew you, instead of just having this idea of you? I mean, I talked to you and I think you’re really great. And you’re so nice. They don’t know that. . .about you.”

“Gilly. . .”

“Tanner’s having a party, tomorrow, at his house. You could come. I’m inviting you, and then maybe you guys could all talk at the party? Just talk it out outside of school? Or if you don’t want to talk, that’s also fine. And we could all just hang out together.”

So here’s the thing. Like, by high school rules and based on my Greenville High experience, there was no way in heck this would work. Sarah Pye and Tanner Spencer were not people who were going to have their minds changed by one of my witty party jokes (although I do have some good ones). But. But. If I could do this. If it could work.

Then wouldn’t that fix everything? And make Lucy’s life better? And the show would go on? And maybe I could show Berry that Gilly had changed? And maybe she had? Because the person I met a few days earlier in the woods covered in mud was really nice and I liked that person?

And she just said I was “great.”

“Hello?”

“Yeah. Okay. Maybe.” I shifted slightly in my spot on the bed, sending Bjorn running off in disgust. “Can I bring Berry?”

“Sure.”

I couldn’t tell if she was happy or not. “Okay. Well. I’ll see you tomorrow. At the party?”

“Yeah! I’ll text you the address!”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye!”

Possibly, if you are reading this, you are thinking something along the lines of what Millie says all the time. Which is, just because you have a logic for your actions and can explain that logic at length, doesn’t mean that action is logical.

Damn Millie and her insights that I can only ever appreciate in hindsight.

So yes, this whole party thing, you are possibly thinking, was a terrible idea.

ANNE

Hey! What are you doing tomorrow?

BERRY

Nothing. Why?

ANNE

Do you want to come to a party with me?

BERRY

A Greenville Party?

ANNE

Yes.

BERRY

Whose?

ANNE

Tanner’s?

You would not be alone in that thinking.

NINETEEN

Berry picked me up at my house an hour before the party, arriving just as I was debating whether or not I should wear my velvet tuxedo, which, to me did not seem that dressy. But as it turned out even Berry, who was mostly up for any combination of clothing I could dream up, was wearing what looked like a pretty functional wool sweater over her coveralls and she did not think the tux was a good idea.

“It’s already cold out,” she said. “The party’s probably outside.”