I haven’t talked to her since before school let out, and even then, it was a forgettable exchange, like nice-weather-we’re-having. But she hasn’t scowled at me, so I guess we’re cool. I wave and sit on my steps to watch. She gets up, comes over to me, and sits beside me, offering a bag of microwave popcorn. I take a handful. “How are you?” she asks.

“Fine. You? I hear you’re off to college soon.”

She smiles. “Miami.”

“That’s good. Close to Kane, at least.”

She chews on some popcorn and shakes her head. “He told you that? Moron. It’s an eight-hour drive. He’ll be all the way across the state from me.”

Well, that’s Kane. To Kane, an eight-hour drive is a minor detail. “Should be nice, though.”

“Yeah. I’m excited.” She’s wearing a little sundress, and she hugs her bare knees to herself. She’s not one to get sunburns, but all the weekends going to the beach with Kane have given her a bit of a tan. “So are you going to school?”

“Just community college for now. I’ll transfer to four-year in two years, maybe,” I say.

Kane lets off another one, which is more of a noisemaker than anything else. It soars up into the sky, and we keep waiting for the pretty bloom of light, but nothing happens except an enormous pop that makes both of us jump. Kane fist-pumps, like it’s excellent. Luisa looks at me and rolls her eyes.

“I wanted to tell you, before I left,” she says, leaning forward. “I didn’t mean what I said. It wasn’t your fault.”

I wave her away. “It’s okay.”

“He loved us both,” she says quietly. “And he felt like no matter what choice he made, he was betraying someone. He hated letting people down. It made him feel so guilty.”

A kernel of corn is caught in my throat, so I cough it loose, turning her words over. Yes, he felt guilt deeply, though something about that doesn’t seem quite right. After all this time, it also doesn’t feel right to argue. I nod as a memory comes to me. Me and Declan, in my bedroom.

She continues: “I remember the last thing he told me, the night before he died. He wasn’t happy. He told me wished he’d never moved here. He felt like everyone had turned against him. I told him it’d be better in college, but he was still upset. I only wish I’d known how upset he was.”

He’d never told me that. No, whenever we spoke about him moving here, he’d said it was the best thing that ever happened to him, for the sole reason that it brought us together.

But water under the bridge. I may never know why he killed himself, but I think I can live with myself.