I nod. Our last Christmas, our only Christmas as boyfriend and girlfriend, and I couldn’t even celebrate it with Declan. Mr. Weeks had taken the family on some skiing trip, and Declan had texted me about a million times, completely miserable, since he didn’t do snow. But before he left, he’d given me a necklace with a tiny diamond in the center of a heart. “Diamonds are forever, and so are we,” he’d said solemnly. Then he’d laughed as he put it around my neck. “I read that in a jewelry ad.”

The memory pulls tears from my eyes. How did I repay him for that kindness? By cheating on him? It all seemed so cruel of me. I squeeze back the tears. “I do. I even remember the New Year’s party. At least the first part of it. We were at your house, right?”

“Yeah. And we all got a little smashed that night, so I can’t help you with that,” he says. “But after Christmas break, we—”

“Wait. Wait. Wait.” I reach into my bag and pull out a little notebook. In it, I’d made a calendar. I’d been filling it in with events as they happened. Memories. “Okay. After break. Go on.”

“We got back in January. So, January 2?” He leans back and put his snow boots up on the dashboard. They’re covered in salt and sand, but my Jeep is beyond help, so I don’t worry. I write: Jan 2. “You remember that? We all came back to school, and you were worried that Declan was acting weird.”

“I was?”

He nods. “You wouldn’t tell me what the deal was.”

I rack my brain. Had Declan ever acted weird? Well, he normally acted weird, but in a delightful way. Nothing that ever worried me. I shake my head helplessly.

“That week you suggested we go to the movies. So we did. All six of us. Remember that?”

None of this rings a bell. “What did we see?”

“That stupid horror movie. The one about the teens who get stranded in the house on the mountain, and then all of them start to die?” He takes in my blank expression and says, “It’s no wonder you don’t remember. It was pretty forgettable.”

Yeah, but not only do I not remember the movie, I don’t remember the entire outing. I scratch my head. On the calendar, it looks like that day would have been January sixth. Five weeks before Declan died. This is good. I finally feel like I’m getting somewhere. I write Movies with the 6 in the box for that date.

“And everything was good that night?”