His bare legs look tanned under the bright-yellow fabric. Next to him, I feel like a milk bottle. She always used to tease me about it, to the point where it got irritating. Now I’d give anything if she’d tease me again, just one more time.

It can’t be true, can it? That she’s gone? I’d have felt something like that.

“No, go without me,” I say. I can’t go swimming with them, pretending to be happy, when I feel like this. I’m sure Kate will realize immediately that something’s up—and then the questions will start.

What am I supposed to say to her? That the girl who used to be her best friend has committed suicide? Kate will break all over again, into a thousand pieces. I can’t do that to her.

“Huh? Why aren’t you coming?”

“Swollen toe.” I shrug. “Sucks.”

“Are you kidding me? Now of all times!” Lucas flashes me a look of irritation. “Can’t you put a plastic bag over it or something?”

“Nope. Doctor’s orders.”

“Awesome.” Lucas stuffs a towel into his bag.

I look outside again. A boat full of tourists is sailing along the river.

“Are you guys ready?” I hear Kate ask.

“Fender’s not coming. Something about a swollen toe.”

“What a bunch of crap!” Kate looks at me. “You can just sit on the side, can’t you?”

I want them to go away. I need to be alone. I have to read the letter again.

“You guys go,” I say. “I’ll see you later.”

“But…”

“No, it’s not happening, Kate.”

There’s a moment’s silence. I bet Kate’s going to give it another try. She can be really insistent when she doesn’t get her way. She’s always been like that.

“Hey, where’s your guitar?” she says then.

I feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck. “What do you mean?”

Kate looks around the room. “You always bring it to parties, so why not this time?”

“I…I forgot it.”

“Forgot it?” Kate shakes her head. She doesn’t believe me. Of course she doesn’t. I used to drag that thing around with me everywhere. No one ever needed to put on music. I was the jukebox. I could play everything. My fingers knew every request.

Kate and Lucas danced, and she listened. With her head in her hands, and a dreamy look in her eyes. She was the reason I played until my fingers cramped up.

“But what about my birthday present?” Kate says. “You always give me a song every year!”

I should have known she’d bring that up. The tradition began when Kate said she already has everything. So every year I’d write a song and play it specially for her.