But how can I play guitar now that she isn’t here anymore? I haven’t touched my guitar for almost a year now.

“Fender can play without a guitar.”

All three of us look up in surprise. Linnea is standing in the doorway, blushing a bit.

“Can’t you?”

“What do you mean?” asks Lucas.

“Well, he practices every day during classes. He mutters the lyrics and drums under his chair with his fingers.”

Linnea’s words slowly shatter inside my head. Until now, only one person ever noticed that. It was something between the two of us. Even Kate had never spotted my tic.

When I’m nervous, I practice solos and I hear the tune in my head. It makes me feel calm.

Why would Linnea of all people notice that?

“Is that true?” Kate asks me. She bursts out laughing. “Weirdo!”

“Of course it’s not,” I say loudly. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Linnea sees things that aren’t there.”

I look at Linnea, who is hanging her head. What’s she doing here anyway? She should have been here. We’d have shared a room at the Riverside and we’d have made fun of the luxury.

We were already making plans for after high school. The four of us were going to study in the same city.

How can everything change in just one moment?

I hate Linnea, with her innocent blue eyes. She has no idea whose place it is that she was so eager to take.

“Come on, let’s go to the pool,” says Lucas, pulling Linnea along with him. As they head down the hallway, Kate gives me a searching look.

Is she going to say something else about my guitar? I know that look on her face. She’s not letting it go.

But I force myself to look back at her until my eyes start to water.

Kate is the first to turn away and, without saying anything, she closes the door behind her.

I look at myself in the mirror above the bathroom sink. The skin under my eyes is thin and purple, and my cheeks are sunken.

I look like some kind of junkie. My friends must have noticed too.

I feel like I might collapse of exhaustion at any minute, and also like I’ll never be able to sleep again.

I’m way too scared of the nightmares.

Her inside a casket.

Arms crossed and eyes shut.

Did she suffer?

How did she do it?

Pills? Jumping? A noose?

I press my fingertips to my temples. My head is exploding with questions.

Then, suddenly, there are three loud knocks on the door. Startled, I look back. Could Lucas have forgotten something?

“Room service,” says a muffled voice.

Did Lucas order some food? He eats all day long but never puts on an ounce.