Wait, no! That’s not true. Billy never got up—not once. And I remember this because, like Diana, I was tracking his every move. I watched him come into the house and take off his coat; I waited for him to hug me. Instead, he brushed by me, and guided Diana down the hall. “Billy!” I called out. “No hello?” Diana said hi, but he kept walking, tossing off, “Oh, hey, Cassie,” over his shoulder. Later, we were in the den: Billy, Diana, Eleanor, and me. Billy was being very cold, and I tried to make conversation, but he barely acknowledged me. So I went to find Lawrence, who was in the celebration room, and let him know Billy and Diana had arrived. When I walked out, I ran into Diana, who’d been peering into random rooms, gawking at their size. She was holding a vase, but upside-down as if checking for a manufacturing label. “I’m sorry,” she said, startled. “I didn’t know you were here.” I didn’t care about the vase, but I was stung by Billy’s shitty treatment. I made a nasty crack, and I think Diana was embarrassed because she wouldn’t look me in the eye. “I’m so sorry,” she kept repeating then rushed off. When I got back to the den, she was tugging on Billy’s hand. “Babe, I don’t feel well. Babe? Do you mind if we head out early? Babe?” The whole thing was fucked-up and rude.

“And then what happened?” Anderson is asking Diana.

“I broke up with him. I mean, it took a few weeks, but eventually I told him it was really over.”

“And how did he react to that?”

“Badly. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” She shakes her head. “I went to his dorm room to tell him, and when I started talking, he picked up his baseball bat. I got scared. Honestly, this was unusual. Billy has never hurt me, not physically. But the bat freaked me out. ‘Billy,’ I said. ‘I wish you’d put that down.’”

“Did he?”

“No. He just kept smacking the thick part against his hand, in this menacing way. I didn’t know what to do, so I just kept talking. I told him I cared about him and didn’t want to hurt him. But we couldn’t see each other anymore. At first, he didn’t reply, so I thought he was okay. But then he blew up. I mean, he was a maniac, yelling and swinging the bat. Not at me, at the furniture. Then he ran out to the parking lot behind the dorm and started bashing in his own car.”

Nate nudges me and whispers, “Do you believe this? Why would he do that?”