“Honestly, Lamb,” Natasha says. “It was just…me fucking around.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You good?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good night, Kit. And God rest Tammy’s soul.”

Natasha signs off, leaving only Kit on the Zoom.

She stares at herself, sees the sadness in her eyes, sees the fear there too. There hasn’t been word of the Samhattan police catching whoever did this. No news of a lead at all. Mom and Dad are downstairs, on their phones, talking nonstop to other parents, Coach Wanda, the police.

Kit eyes herself. She knows what it’s like to be an outsider. Like Daphne was.

It was just me…fucking around.

And it probably was.

But man, if that story isn’t an earworm.

She looks to her bedroom window. Thinks of Tammy’s.

She wonders what it would be like to be seven feet tall. A quiet fan of loud music. She wonders if she, Kit, could pull off wearing a jean jacket to school, patches of her favorite bands stitched all over. She imagines face paint, imagines herself wearing it.

She googles images of the band KISS.

What is she doing? But she’s doing it.

And the images, in context, frighten her. She imagines each of the band members brutalizing Tammy Jones. She thinks of that bottle in her desk again. She doesn’t want to need to take one. Doesn’t want to become someone who does.

Is it here? Is she in the throes of an attack?

She’s so scared, so sad, she can’t tell.

“KISS,” she says.

One’s a cat, a couple are stars, one could be a demon. She wonders if Daphne looks like a demon.

Just fucking around…

Yes, yes. Natasha was probably just fucking around. It’s likely the story has nothing to do with Tammy’s death. Wait: more than likely.

“Natasha’s story has nothing to do with Tammy’s death,” she says. Because she needs to say it.

It’s a coincidence, is all. And just like when the others ask the rim questions, coincidences start to look like prophecies made true. People can find links wherever they want to. It literally happens all day every day. How many times has Kit heard someone talking about the death of a family member only to say they dreamt of it beforehand? Or they had a sense, a feeling…

Yes, a lot like the rim. Like the time Dana asked if she was going to pass her trig test and then she kind of did, but only because the test was canceled, and oh how they all thanked the rim.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? The rim is like that for everyone else but Kit. The rim doesn’t lie to Kit.

And the rim said Daphne is real.

Said more than that.

Dad’s voice comes loud from downstairs. Kit listens for news. Hears none. Just variations of We need to know our daughters are safe.

She opens YouTube, plays a KISS song. The first one that comes up. “I Was Made for Loving You.” It doesn’t sound like metal at all. Sounds like disco. It makes her nervous. The music sounds like the heat she feels at the base of her neck. One of the star men sings, turns out. Kit listens to a third of it, then turns it off, closes out the window.