I didn’t even know anymore. I’d gotten very skilled at lying to myself recently.

“And you know, if she’s the type of person to be that threatened by someone?” Brooke went on. “We wouldn’t have worked long term. I’d always have to make myself small to avoid making her jealous. I don’t want to be small.”

Now I nodded more vigorously. This was a much better train of thought, because it came free of the niggling voice that said you still know something Brooke doesn’t. Maybe Ray was going to tell her, but it certainly didn’t change that she was the kind of person to sabotage someone else to get her own way. “You shouldn’t ever be small. You weren’t meant to be.”

Brooke gave me a watery smile. “I love you. You know that, right?”

I returned the smile, but it felt taut, like pants that refused to button. “Yeah, I know.”

“So,” she said in a purposefully perky voice. Subject changed, apparently. “When are you safe to drive?”

“I have to be under point-oh-one.” I took out my phone to do some calculations. “Technically I’ve probably been safe all day, but it’s scary. Like, girls metabolize so much slower, and it changes depending on your weight and your body, and I don’t know if my liver’s very good at this yet…”

“I know, I know,” said Brooke. “Like, you’re probably fine, but if a cop pulled you over, you’d still have an anxiety attack.”

“Yes, exactly! I got told once we shouldn’t drive at all the next day if we were drunk the night before.”

“But I don’t know if you were drunk drunk.”

“I felt drunk drunk for a half hour, though.”

“What does ‘drunk’ even mean?” Brooke complained. “It’s so vague!”

“So vague. It’s like they want us to fail.”

“Just eat some bread.” She grinned mischievously. She knew perfectly well bread didn’t do shit to sober a person up. “Come on, you’ve had lunch, it’s almost three in the afternoon, you stopped drinking at, what, midnight? I think you’re fine.”

“I know, I probably am,” I grumbled. “I just wish cars came with Breathalyzers.” I started gathering my stuff, then paused to look over at Brooke.

“Hey … Are you gonna be okay?”

She burrowed even farther into her sweater. “Yeah. Thanks for checking. But I will one hundred percent harass you for the rest of the day with whining and mopey messages.”

“I look forward to them.”