“I didn’t mean to,” she says, wriggling out of my grip.

I’m left standing with a chunk of her hair in my fist. She presses her palm to her head, covering up a smear of silver blood.

“It wasn’t on purpose. You know how it is. I lost control.”

I take a step closer, and she pushes me back. I crash into the bar. Bottles clink. Solo cups go flying.

“Oh, shit, catfight!” some guy says.

“Shut up,” we snap at him in unison.

He backs off.

“Don’t touch me,” Mia warns as I move toward her. “Don’t touch me. I don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, well, I do. I really, really do.”

“And you always get what you want, don’t you?” she says.

She rears back, and I brace for her to hit me, but she doesn’t. She spits at me. A wad of spit lands on my cheek. Wet and viscous, like the yolk of an egg.

The shock of it pulls me from my tantrum. The red drains from my vision, just in time for me to watch Mia take off, push her way through the crowd that’s gathered around us.

There’s a stunned silence. Tension thick as peanut butter. I’m too afraid to move. Too afraid to see how they’re all looking at me. I can hear their hearts beating. It’s not fear they’re feeling. It’s something else. Something I can’t identify.

I lift my gaze, and when I do, I see revulsion. I see shock and pity. I see twisted grins. High eyebrows.

I’m a zoo animal, a sideshow freak.

This is her fault. It’s all her fault, and she’s getting away from me. She’s getting away.

“Excuse me,” I say, chin up. I follow the path she parted in the crowd.

I run out the front door. “Mia! Mia!”

Her name drags across the night like nails on a chalkboard.

I stumble down the pathway, lined with little fucking snowflakes and candy canes and smiling elves. As I walk by, the sound of sleigh bells rings out from some hidden speaker set back in the bushes. The shadows from the inflatables on the lawn loom large. How many of those things does a person need? And why? Why?!

I can’t tell if she’s hidden among the decorations or if she’s gone.

“Mia!”

“I’m not talking to you unless you calm down.”

I whip around. “Where are you?”

“You know how it is when the moon is full.”

I follow her voice. I step into the yard, navigating around the Grinch and Snoopy, tripping over extension cords.

“It was the day of my father’s funeral. I didn’t realize. I didn’t know. I lost track. It’s so exhausting, always having to pay attention, to be vigilant. . . .”

“I don’t feel sorry for you if that’s what you’re getting at,” I say, knocking over an LED angel. “You knew. This whole fucking time, you knew. And you hung out with me. Looked me in the eye. You wore my boots in front of me. What’s wrong with you?”