“Do you think it’s my fault that Andrew died?” she asks. “You can tell me the truth. Everyone else thinks it is. I mean, except for a couple of friends who are super religious. They keep telling me it was God’s plan, but I don’t know, that sounds like a real cop-out way of explaining it.”

“I don’t believe in God,” I reply.

“I thought I did,” Lizzy admits. “But I don’t know anymore.”

If the girl who’d been sitting on this bench in September with Gabs was having this conversation with Lizzy, she would have found a way to reassure her or kiss her ass or use the opportunity to infiltrate the popular group. But she’s not here anymore.

“I think you did a really stupid thing by throwing a party in the middle of a pandemic. I don’t think you killed Andrew. He made a choice to go over there. No one put a gun to his head. But yeah, I guess if you didn’t throw a party, he might still be alive.”

Lizzy nods.

“Everyone thinks I was being so selfish, but it wasn’t like that. All around me, it just felt like my friends were falling apart. They seemed so sad and scared and depressed, and I just wanted to give us a night where we could feel normal again. I knew the virus was a risk—I’m not an idiot—but I started feeling like what it was doing to our mental health could kill us first.”

I think about my own struggles, and I know Lizzy’s right. Even if we survive this pandemic, it’ll be hard to measure what the toll will be going forward.

“And, like, I’m sorry,” she says, continuing her defense, “but everyone has been making their own concessions and rationalizing why it’s okay to do this and that. I wasn’t the only one. And I loved him. I really, really did.”

Maybe I’ve been isolated for way too long, but Lizzy’s actually making more sense than I would have expected. I rationalized driving over to Gabriela’s place the night of my car accident. Wes and Gabs have been rationalizing their daily make-out sessions. No one is doing quarantine perfectly.

“Look at your own sister,” Lizzy adds. “She’s got that guy Gideon on her balcony every night and they’re like… fully doing it. Or at least that’s what it looks like.”

“Excuse me?” I ask.

Neda has been adamant that she and Gideon have been communicating from a distance. That’s the only reason my parents have allowed Gideon to come by our house at all.