“Because of you, I know that there’s the big world out there, that people have dreams. If I didn’t know you, I’d just think, This is it, and I’d probably be happy here.” She lists the many blessings of being a Grimshaw—lots of family you can count on, and they all know how to fix a car. I say nothing. “But your big mouth and your big words,” she continues. “It’s like your words come from someplace else, so it makes me think I’m gonna go someplace else, too.”

“We’ll get there.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet.” We sit down again. “But just because we failed history, there’s no reason for despair.”

“But that’s the point,” she says. She gathers all her hair on top of her head and knots it into a bun. “It doesn’t matter. We could pass history or fail it, and it wouldn’t make any difference. So why are we doing it?”

I don’t have an answer for that, so I’m quiet, feeling the despair come over us, like exhalations from the dead bodies underneath us.

“It’s because I’m gonna be eighteen,” she continues. “That’s why I’m thinking about it. When you turn eighteen, you start thinking about death. You’ll see.”

“Also because you need a cigarette.”

“Maybe. But seriously, Serena, what about all those bullshit classes we signed up for next year? Consumer Concepts? What the hell even is that?”

“We talked about it. We signed up for easy classes so we can have fun.”

“Boring isn’t fun,” she says. “Mr. C. was right. You should be taking harder classes.”

“Just be here when I get back, that’s all I ask. And stay away from Junior Davis, too—I have a feeling those fascist cheerleaders are capable of violence.”

Grimshaw pulls her shirt back over her head. “Anybody else you don’t want me to see?”

“That goon in the rusty Corvette.”

“He has ambition,” she says. “He’s getting a Dodge Viper.”

“Right. And I’m getting a flying zeppelin. I know, I think I’ll call it … the Hindenburg.” Then I think of something. “Dammit,” I say. “I forgot about my hair again. Can you do it tonight?”

“Leave it alone.” She takes off my Red Army cap and pushes my hair around my head. “What would you do if you woke up one day and you were the prettiest girl in the room?”

I push her hand away and pull my hat back as low on my head as it will go. “That’s your job.”

“My job.” She laughs. “That must be why I’m so rich.”