I ignore her, refusing to feed into her delusions surrounding Nick and me.
“We’ll see you two in a bit,” Lanie says, grabbing Corinne bythe arm of her black sweatshirt that saysI’m wickedin bold white letters.
“What do we do?” Nina asks.
“First? Grab a bottle of the champagne from the car.”
Nina nods vigorously. “We might as well not lose our buzz.”
We take a seat on top of the car, and I pop the cork from the bottle, taking a sip and passing it over to Nina.
“This feels a lot like the summer before our senior year,” she says, smiling. “Nights spent at the lake.”
“It does,” I say, bobbing my head.
I recall that summer with perfect clarity. It was a year that lives fondly in my memory. We spent nearly every night at our friend Liv’s cabin, located down a dirt road, situated next to a small lake. We’d drink strawberry Boone’s Farm and take reckless swims, oblivious to the danger of mixing the two. Looking back, it’s a wonder we all lived to tell about those days.
I thank god on the daily that Ava is nothing like me. She’s smart, but more important, responsible. These days a simple app allows me to monitor where she is at all times. Not that I check often, because I know she makes good decisions. She’s typically at the library or in her room, and that gives me peace of mind.
“This is not how I envisioned tonight going,” Nina says, looking up into the starless night. “New Year’s has never been my favorite.”
“That’s why we need to make new memories.” I pass the bottle back to her.
Her head lolls toward me, a lazy grin spreading across her face. “I’d say that tonight will definitely be a night I won’t forget.”
“Me too.” I take a pull of the fizzy drink and sigh. “This is all a lot.”
“Leave it to Lanie to come rushing in, freaked out by a dream.”
“It’s odd, isn’t it? I mean…I’m not a therapist, but the way she’s reacting, it seems a bit much.”
Nina’s quiet for a minute, and I think she’s going to let my comment go, but she doesn’t.
“There’s something going on with Lanie. Her behavior suggests that the walls are closing in on her.”
“What do we do? We have to help, right?”
She lets out a weary exhale. “I think this is something we need to allow her to come to us about.”
Isla paces in front of us, head lowered to the ground as she mumbles something unintelligibly. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“It’s just…I want…” She shakes her head. “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”
I sit up. “Try me.”
She makes a strangled noise, and my eyebrow arches in curiosity. I haven’t known Isla long, but she hasn’t struck me as overly dramatic. Right now, her entire demeanor is theatrical.
“I know I’m dead. I’ve come to terms with that. But my body is in there,” she says, jutting her hand toward the cemetery. “My final resting place. I’m right here, and a morbid part of me wants to see my gravestone. Wants to see what others do when they visit me.” She sighs heavily. “Am I crazy for wanting that?”
I chew on my bottom lip, wholly unprepared to answer that question.
“I can’t claim to understand, but who am I to say it’s crazy? You should go in there.”
Her face lights up. “You’ll go in? You’ll take me with you?”
“Umm…no. I didn’t mean to imply that.” I shake my head, angry with myself for not thinking my words through before voicing them. “I can’t, Isla. It’s illegal, and if I were caught, it would ruin my plans.”
Her entire demeanor shifts, shoulders sagging in resignation. “I understand. I…shouldn’t have asked that of you.”
