“Lying down somewhere,” he said. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

“Oh.” I plucked another shot off the tray, and one for good luck, since they were going fast. I knocked the next one against his, and we downed them at the same time. “Cheers. Happy New Year.”

The third wasn’t as neat; some dribbled off my chin. That was a perfect portent for the direction the rest of the evening would head. Things just got sloppier and sloppier. By midnight, I was huddled over a toilet, puking my guts out. I’d wanted to be present for the whole party, but I missed everything after that third shot. I recalled flashes, blurs, people coming and going, screaming, scraping my elbow, sloppy kisses, laughing until it hurt, crying until I couldn’t breathe. But in the morning, I couldn’t recall the why behind any of it.

When I woke in that new year, mouth sour, head pounding, I didn’t even know how I’d made it to my own bed.

Wednesday, February 27

Actually speaking to Luisa ends up being more difficult than I thought. I text her as soon as I get to gym class: Can we talk?

Right away, the message shows itself as being read, so I know she got it. But after two periods, she still hasn’t responded. Which means she’s avoiding me.

Since Luisa and Kane stopped hanging out with us at my locker in the morning, I have no idea about her schedule or where to find her. I’m in the advanced classes, but she’s on the honors track, so we don’t share a single period. Whenever I see her, she’s with Kane. I manage to ask around and find out that she’s in third period study hall, so instead of making my way to class, I head to the cafeteria.

I poke my head in, but she’s not there. When I’m about to give up, I see her making her way past the award showcases toward me. When she sees me, her eyes narrow slightly. She approaches, looking up and down the hallway as if she’s afraid to be seen with me, and says, “The answer’s no. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Come on, Luisa. I—”

“No,” she says. “Kane told me what you’re up to. And I don’t really care what happened to you when you were in the hospital. I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”

I’ve never actually heard Luisa, usually all sunshine and sweetness, sound so cold.

Or maybe I have. Something about this exchange feels familiar. We’ve fought before.