Despite Hannah’s distaste for the band’s music, she enjoyed watching Ostrom and Madison perform, especially when she was with Vicki. Hannah and Vicki, who had become fast friends during their freshman year, when they lived in the same dormitory as Rich, Rob, and Bee, would position themselves at shows in whatever dark corner they could find, belittling the music—specifically the always-gesticulating Jared Novak, whose stage presence was far more appropriate for dinner theater than a college rock act. Bee would usually stand beside them, laughing at their jokes. Sometimes she tried to get them to behave. “Vicki,” she’d say, stifling her own giggles, “you realize you’re making fun of your own boyfriend.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Vicki would respond, grinning.

On this particular night, the evening of the forgettable house party, Vicki had stopped into Hannah’s bedroom at the last minute to explain that she’d have to skip the festivities to stay home to comfort the girl who lived in the apartment above them who was having a pregnancy scare. Vicki had found her sobbing in the piles of snow on their shared front porch and offered to take her to the drugstore to get an over-the-counter test.

“Ugh,” Hannah said, already bundled up for the walk to meet Rob and the band. “If you’re not going, I’m not going. It’s so frigid out there. I’d rather just order in from Alto Cinco and watch television.”

“No, Hannah, you have to go. Bee’s parents are in town, so she can’t go. I told Rich we’d be there, so one of us has to show up. And I’ve heard that Jared Novak is going to cover Queen. Go, and tell me everything.”

Hours later, after Hannah had made small talk with all the regular followers of Ostrom and Madison, she wondered if she could send a mental message to Vicki to explain what she was missing—which was Jared Novak wearing a bright orange, blue, and red striped coat that looked like it was left over from a musical production. Hannah imagined what Vicki might be doing just then, probably helping their neighbor interpret colors on a urine-covered stick.

As Jared Novak wailed the lyrics to Led Zeppelin’s “Fool in the Rain,” shifting back and forth like Robert Plant as he repeated the phrase “light of the love that I found,” Hannah was surprised by Tom, who was suddenly at her side, looking casual, a red plastic cup of beer in each hand. He handed one to her, and she accepted.

“Hey there.”

“Hey.” She looked away from Tom and back to the band, concentrating on the music as much as she could without wincing.

Tom smiled, running his fingers through his mane.

“They sound good tonight, right?”

“Who?”

“The band.”

Hannah bit her lip and turned her head from Tom, the side of her face revealing her grin.

“What? You don’t think they sound good?” Tom smirked.

“Rob sounds good. Rich sounds good, I guess,” Hannah said, nodding her head in the direction of the music. “But Jared Novak?”