“It’s like you think you’re the only one who lost something—someone—that day, whose life was changed forever. Like no one else was in that building. Like no one else thought they might die. That entire time, we had no idea what was happening—the fire alarm kept blaring and everyone was huddled under desks, crying and watching the news on our phones, and I kept texting you and Jordan and getting no response. Don’t you get that what happened broke my heart?” Her mouth sets in a thin, hard line. “It’s not fair, May. You don’t allow anyone else the tiniest amount of room to grieve…and if we try to, you judge us for how we’re doing it.”

“No—” I open my mouth to defend myself, to tell her how wrong she is, but she ignores me and keeps talking.

“I even committed crimes for you, to try to help you feel better. You think I can afford to get caught vandalizing shit? It would fuck up my college chances forever. You know my dad isn’t some fancy producer. We don’t have a huge house like you do; my family can’t afford to send me to college wherever I want to go. These days my dad can barely hold on to a job, not that you would know anything about that, since you haven’t asked me about myself in months. But I didn’t let any of that stop me. I was trying to be a good friend. I didn’t even complain when you flaked on my birthday party last summer. I knew it was hard for you to get out of the house, to be around people….” She pushes herself off my bed and stands up, arms crossed.

“I miss you, May. I’ve missed you for a year—missed you singing, missed you laughing, missed hearing your trumpet. Sometimes it feels like that fucking monster took both of my best friends that day.” She shakes her head. “Can you please admit that this is out of control? You have to tell your parents about these letters. You have to stop letting this guy mess with your head—stop letting him have power over you. Can’t you see that?”

I’m shaking with anger. I cannot believe the one person in this world I thought I could still trust would say this shit to me—would judge me like this. I’m frozen on my bed, still as a statue, and when she tries to touch me, I fling her hand off my arm with such violence that she jerks back in surprise.