My friends don’t have a clue. They’ve both just gotten on with their lives.

Kate was broken at the time, maybe even more than I was. But after the summer break, a miracle occurred.

And that miracle was called Linnea.

Our homeroom teacher sat her next to Kate on the first day of school this year, in the one empty seat.

It was just as if Linnea had come to replace her. A new version, completely intact.

She got Kate to laugh again. I remember hearing that sound again the first day back at school and realizing it had been months since she’d last laughed.

From then on, Linnea was one of us. She came and sat with us at recess, on our bench by the river, and she’ll be there this weekend when Kate celebrates her birthday.

Linnea is everywhere she used to be.

She patched up Kate. Lucas is crazy about her. But she can’t fix me.

I open the envelope and pause for a moment.

What if this letter does even more damage? Maybe it says how much she hates me.

But then I think about the past few months. Hearing nothing from her is still a thousand times worse than hearing something.

The letter is clumsily folded in half. The paper smells of her perfume. The images that the fragrance evokes startle me.

Her body against mine.

Under this boat.

I should have soaked up those moments when I still could.

My hands shaking, I unfold the letter. But as soon as I read the first two sentences, I wish I hadn’t.

There are times when hearing something is worse than hearing nothing.

I never expected to write this, but I can’t go on any longer.

This is my suicide note.

Linnea

“Tomorrow’s the big day.” Lucas is sitting in our usual spot by the river, staring at the opposite bank, where the setting sun is casting a pink glow over the Riverside Hotel.

I never thought I’d go inside that five-star hotel, but Kate is celebrating her birthday there tomorrow.

“Two rooms.” Kate looks at us. “Far away from my dad and the people from his firm.”

Kate’s dad has a business meeting at the Riverside this weekend and managed to score a couple extra rooms for his daughter. There should normally be one adult per room, but no one’s going to check. Besides, Kate’s dad will be around if anything goes wrong.

“Two rooms? Perfect!” Lucas grins. “So I’m sharing with Linnea?”

“You wish.” By now I’m so used to Lucas making remarks like this that I just fire straight back at him. “You snore.”

“Do not!”

“Do too,” says Kate. “Fender says he didn’t sleep a wink at camp because of you.”

“Hey, where is Fender, anyway?”