She seemed happy, enthusiastic. The card was framed, but the frame was attached to the wall with a string, and it could be flipped around to show the back. The stats were on it, along with the ability. People who played on console would have the cards at hand, being able to swipe the card like one might a credit or debit card, summoning an ally or generating an effect.

“I was a support card. Not a lot of people used me because I couldn’t be summoned into a fight,” Kenzie said. “Kind of a bummer.”

Amy had been a support card for that game, I was pretty sure. The effect had been downplayed a lot, but her card had still been popular, because there weren’t that many heals. Most of what I knew had come from Dean, Chris, and Dennis talking. Gallant, Kid Win, and Clockblocker.

“I have one too,” I said. “Mine wasn’t anything special, despite my being popular-ish at the time.”

“That’s so cool. Let me see, I think I have other stuff. Old merch that I found. It’s so hard, with the world ending and everything.”

She rummaged. I looked at the other wall decoration.

Group therapy seating chart. Kenzie connected to Sveta and Chris. Chris to Damsel, Damsel to Rain, Rain to Tristan, Tristan to Sveta, forming a circle.

There were notes. Between Ashley and Rain was ‘hands’ and ‘not rich’. Between Rain and Tristan were ‘regret’ and ‘teenage boys’. Between Tristan and Sveta was ‘Weld’ and ‘hero’, and so it went. Other notes cluttered margins, seemingly more about groups of three or group therapy in general, with topics of past discussions in tiny scribbled font and hatch marks or symbols here and there.

The note that caught my eye was Chris and Ashley. There was ‘dark’, ‘switch places?’ and then a question mark by note I couldn’t make out without bringing my face closer to the paper.

Yamada said they have a lot they can talk about but what? Doesn’t say.

“My seating chart!” Kenzie said, with an energy and suddenness that made me jump. “Don’t get me started. Really truly don’t, because I could talk forever about the group, and I want to talk about other stuff.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.”

“I have other merch that was from a bag of plastic things that was the size of my head. They were selling each bag for twenty bucks, when before it would have been, like, four. I wanted Baltimore PRT stuff. I found mine!”

It was a plastic disc with an image embossed onto it, the kind of thing that might have dropped out of one of the glass cases with a quarter and a crank from outside grocery stores and mall entrances. Optics. There was one for Houndstooth, and one for a cape I didn’t recognize in the slightest.