It’s noisy in the main room. The crowd is getting thicker. The air is pungent, a mix of sweat and stale beer. In a weird way, it’s almost pleasant. It reminds me of something safe, of the time before everything, when Jordan would have been by my side. Lucy started playing in her first band when we were all in eighth grade, back when he was my second brain—my twin—and the two of us would go to her shows and watch Lucy play, amazed that our friend was up there performing in a setting that was so different from the school band. I know he liked to go because he wished he could be a part of it—play his guitar with a real band, not just the jazz band at school. But, our parents wouldn’t hear of it. They thought it would be a distraction—would take away from the end goal, whatever that was. This was before high school started, before things between me and Jordan started shifting and twisting, before it became brutally obvious to me that our parents couldn’t even see me anymore. Before I realized he had eclipsed me.

Even though I have no idea where Zach and I are headed, it feels good to be out of that room. I can’t take tiny spaces anymore.

I steer us around the thick of the crowd. Yet another thing I can’t stand. I’d make for a stellar date.

This venue is way more packed than the ones Lucy’s old band would play—those were mostly coffee shops and warehouses, where the crowd consisted of me, Chim, and a few other friends. This is the first time I’ve been to one of Lucy’s shows since Jordan.

I feel hot breath on the back of my neck, and I jump out of my skin before I realize that it’s Zach—obviously it’s Zach. I need to chill.

“Where are we going?” He’s behind me, so close that if I turned around, my nose would touch his mouth. I ignore him and keep walking until I find the wall farthest from the crowd and the stage. He lingers a few feet away, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He’s so timid, and I’m taken by the sudden urge to hit him just to see what it would feel like. Just to see how he’d react.

Lucy’s being ridiculous if she thinks it’s a good idea for me to get involved with him. With anyone, for that matter. I’m totally and irrevocably cracked in half. Sometimes I think I was born again that day in the band room, that the old me was murdered along with everyone else, replaced with this new person who’s angry and scared and broken.