“I met my best friend, Celia, last year, working with this company. I hadn’t had a best friend in, ever … so it was nice. And then a couple of months later I got together with this guy in the company, Bran. My life got really busy and really great, really fast.

“There was this seven-month period where things felt like they were all finally clicking into place…” Jamie’s watching me so intently, I stumble for a moment. I smooth the stray hairs that have escaped my braid.

“Um, Mom was getting super busy at home, dropping the ball on things a lot, but I didn’t mind so much because I had them. I didn’t have to be home.

“This one day I was early to practice. Well, I’m always early. But this particular day, I found Bran and Celia having sex in the dressing room.”

I close my eyes, as the scene reconstructs itself in my mind. The betrayal that speared through me like a sword to the gut. The breakfast burrito–flavored vomit I spewed across the floor moments later. The apathetic silence from Bran and Celia when they looked up and saw me. The anger I’ve always harbored, electrifying, solidifying into a new visceral hatred that I have yet to successfully expel.

I open my eyes to find Jamie cringing in an almost comical fashion.

“Shit.” She shakes her head and her hair floofs about in every direction. “Assholes.”

I yank on my sweatshirt laces again.

“That wasn’t that long,” Jamie notes.

“I’m not done,” I grumble. My hood is now a shrunken ball against my neck. My heart’s beating too fast. I exhale slowly, counting to eight.

Jamie nods. “Take your time.” She turns and gazes out at the bonfire where they’re singing another pop tune.

I can tell this stupid story.

I close my eyes and try to ground myself. Focus on something other than the anxiety. The cold grass. The song. The group is singing … the weird original version of “Wrecking Ball” from a viral video back like nine years ago. It sounds ridiculous. What an ill-timed background song for my anguish. Who would request this version—

“I came into the dining hall!” Jamie screams right beside me. I jostle sideways, scowling at her.

“We’re in the middle of something, could you not right now?”

“Sorry, it’s one of my favorites. I was letting you take a breather. You ready to go on?”

I pull out a giant chunk of grass and shake my head no.

“I’ll give you a sec. Be right back.” She walks over toward the group.

I practice breathing exercises.

I’m feeling slightly better when Jamie returns five minutes later holding two sticks loaded with three marshmallows apiece.

24. A Girl Is Rapt with Attention

JAMIE

August 30, Sunday Evening

Colorado