Despite that assurance, the moment I enter the backyard, the temptation to turn around and run home takes over. Lizzy, Mandy Chu, and Cornelia Martin are all getting their photos taken by Lizzy’s parents, and watching how comfortable they are together, even with six feet between them, makes me the imposter. I suddenly long for Gabriela. The last few weeks, I’ve felt like an empty vessel. Someone who’s moving through the world with a big chunk of their heart missing. If she were here, she’d know exactly what to say. She’d probably mumble that they all looked ridiculous in their matching tiaras. But, alas, she’s given up on us, and I let her.

“Parisa!” Lizzy shouts when she sees me. “Get in here! Grab your tiara!”

Oh no. I glance at a table where either Lizzy or her parents have arranged a variety of nonalcoholic drinks, individual plates with cheese and crackers, and sanitizer wipes. A lone tiara sits next to the display. Half of me feels grateful that they thought to include me, but the other half hates myself for partaking. I’ve never been the kind of girl who needs to feel like a princess.

Regardless, I put on the crown and smile awkwardly as Lizzy’s mom suggests we do a “Charlie’s Angels” pose. Everything, I realize, reminds me of Gabs. Even this moment. I think of the last time she was at my house, before I lost my shit and my parents caught us drinking. I remember us sitting in the bathtub singing at the top of our lungs to “You Should See Me in a Crown” by Billie Eilish. A few minutes later, the edible-and-vodka cocktail hit, and I got worried I was going to die. Gabs would be so disappointed if she knew that I was hanging out with the very same people we were bitching about that night.

The rest of the night is tolerable at best. I mostly sit quietly as Lizzy and her friends gossip about other kids from our school, and other guys they’ve crushed on from neighboring high schools. At one point, Lizzy lets out a sob when she talks about Andrew, and it’s really hard to watch her cry and not give her a hug. I tear up, too, and then I feel bad, because even though Andrew and I were close friends, it’s not like he was my boyfriend. I don’t want to appropriate her grief, even though he was part of my life a lot longer than he was part of her life.

There’s a lull in the conversation as Lizzy gathers herself, and that’s when Cornelia turns to me and asks: “You’re friends with Gabriela Gonzales, right?”

“We used to be friends,” I reply.

The girls exchange a look that makes me feel like they’ve discussed me and Gabs at all those parties we weren’t invited to.