“Thanks,” I started. He wasn’t finished.

“It took me longer to come around to whether or not you deserve it. Of course you do, though. I’d made it about me. Since I didn’t feel like I deserve another chance with a girl, ever.”

“You sound very self-aware about this,” I joked.

Carter smiled, somewhat sheepishly. “I’ve started seeing someone.”

“What? Who, Hannah?” As far as I knew, that was long over.

“Nah. Like, a shrink. You know, to unpack all those mommy and daddy issues.” He coughed and listened to the bustle of people eating pizza. I stayed quiet, unsure if he wanted to tell me more.

He did.

“Finally aired all the B.S. I’ve been thinking about my dad,” said Carter, “how he actually played into what happened with Sarah, where he abandoned his own family and had no concern for our emotions and treated us and my mom like garbage. I couldn’t deal with that. I gave myself so much responsibility to do the right thing, after what he did. Especially when it came to Eliza. I’m starting to be able to weed through it all, though. It’s helping a lot.”

“Wow.” It took a lot of courage to admit to seeing a therapist, and the rest of what he’d said. Especially from a bro. “Good for you.”

“Yeah. I’m trying to get Eliza to go too. Anyway, the doc suggested a while ago that the first step in forgiving myself would be to forgive you. So . . .” He held up his soda. “Cheers?”

Grinning, I lifted up my can. “Maybe I should go see this miracle worker.”

Carter looked out the window at the high school campus. It was much bigger than ours was, and a lot of students loitered about for a Saturday. “I should’ve told you I was going to be here today. Would’ve saved some gas, maybe.”

I rested my elbows on the table. “I should’ve told you a bunch of things,” I said. “Now we know.”

“Now we freaking know.” He crumpled up his greasy napkin and tossed it onto his paper plate. “Anyways, we gotta talk senior pranks,” he said, a familiar glint appearing in his eye.

“Ah. The real reason you wanna be BFFs again. I always was the better pranker.”

“Dick,” said Carter.

“You didn’t deny it.”

“I’d say we’re about even. Which means with our ideas combined, this year could go down in history.”

“Fair enough. What are you thinking?”

“Chef Pizzeria,” he said.

“Obviously.”

“We build a giant pillow fort inside the school and put him at the end. Like a king.”

“We dress him in pajamas and give him one of those eye masks,” I said.

“Exactly.”

“Not bad.” I scratched my chin. “I’ll raise you one. The pillows are filled with Jell-O.”

“Bro,” said Carter.

“Bro.” I reached for a fist bump.

Our fellow test-takers had begun to file out of the restaurant, and our proctor waved to us as he tossed away his plate. With the noise dying down, Carter’s voice lowered.