And then a little time alone (sometimes, to be completely honest, with an oldPlayboymagazine you found in a box of your dad’s stuff from college) reflecting about the last year, which was usually—let’s keep being honest—a highlight reel of various cringeworthy things you said and did in key situations, played over and over again by the relentless sadist who lives in your brain.
It wasn’t the world’s greatest tradition. But at this point, you were sticking to it for lack of anything better. On the night you met Diana, the cake part of the evening was done and you were full of sugar and familial support. You’d watched a movie earlier that day, so you were on to the reflection bit, crawling up on top of the garage for a little stargazing.
This was a new thing for you, in part because you were afraid of heights, and had been since you were a kid. But recently your therapist had told you about exposure therapy, so you were trying, occasionally, to expand your “window of tolerance” for high places. Also, you had just gotten a new app called Pocket Planetarium that alerted you to various astrological events, and all day it had been going completely apeshit, excited beyond belief about the Draconids meteor shower that was set to begin in the next fifteen minutes.
To be clear: You did not care that much about the Draconids meteor shower. What you mostly cared about was distracting yourself from the fact that another year of high school was beginning and it was already evident that nothing much was going to change. As sure as the meteors would soon radiate from the constellation Draco, you would undoubtedly spend your days radiating social anxiety, and looking on from distant parts of the galaxy while other people had memorable experiences.
Like that very night, for example. Just across the moonlit lawn, in his bedroom, your brother and some of his friends were having an impromptu party. The shades were pulled, but you had seen the crew earlier, a few guys from his diving team and an unfamiliar girl or two, their pockets sloshing obviously with contraband as they lumbered into Sean’s room. Even from the roof, you could hear the occasional “Shut up, bro!” echo against the garage, while you tried not to think about the fact that it should probably be you having friends over.
Where are the goddamn meteors?you were thinking when the strange girl crawled out of Sean’s bedroom window. At first you thought it was one of his buddies from the team. They weren’texactly the most risk-averse group of guys you’d ever met, and jumping out of windows was absolutely on brand. But then you saw a girl’s leg straddle the windowsill and a small body drop to the ground and it was clear that whoever this was, they were not doing this on a dare.
“Ow. Screw a kangaroo!” she said. “My ankle.”
Sean poked his head out the window.
“I said you could go out the front. My parents are sleeping!”
The girl gave him the finger and brushed herself off.
You turned over onto your stomach then, your body shaking slightly, and looked down the slope of the roof just as she stepped into the light from the upstairs window. All you saw was dark curly hair and a baggy jean jacket, and it wasn’t until she looked up and spied you on the roof that you understood why she was there. Initially, she hadn’t looked like Sean’s type exactly—girls who spent most of their time in yoga pants, posting carefully staged selfies taken in forests. But when she moved closer, it was clear that she was, like the others, very beautiful.
“Dude,” she said, standing right below the roof. “You startled me. What are you even doing up there?”
Then she started laughing really hard, which was how you realized she was probably kind of hammered. This was not uncommon. Sean, for all his sports conditioning and boy-next-door charm, smoked and drank quite a bit, and so did most of the people he spent time with. He had recently come into your room at 3A.M.on a Tuesday for help cleaning a scorched sauté pan. Eventually it came out that he had tried to make cookies “faster” on the stovetop.
“I’m watching the Draconids,” you said because you never, ever said the right thing, so why should you start now?
This started her laughing again, and she had to lean against the garage to keep her balance.
“Hold on,” she said. “That sounds awesome. I’m coming up.”
The thought of her falling sent a jolt of anxiety through you. And you were about to tell her about the pile of firewood around back that she could use to get a leg up. But before you could get the words out, she jumped up, grabbed ahold of the gutter, and began to hoist herself toward the roof. You nearly left your body watching her hang there, but it was impressive upper-body strength, especially given her state. She managed to get a foothold on a windowsill, and in what felt like seconds, she was lying flat on her back only a few feet away from you.
“All right,” she said. “Okay… I think I get it now.”
“Get what?” you said.
“Why you’re up here. I thought maybe you were peeping in people’s windows. But it’s kind of nice like this. Stars and stuff.”
She burped incredibly loud then.
“Oh my god,” she said. “That feels so much better.”
You weren’t sure if you were supposed to laugh, so you stayed quiet. She didn’t seem to mind. It wasn’t often that you were this close to a girl, and you had decided that the best strategy for not embarrassing yourself was to say nothing that you absolutely didn’t have to. She seemed content with this until something must have occurred to her.
“Wait a second,” she said. “You’re Case, right?!”
“Yeah,” you said.
At that point, she punched you hard in the arm.
“I just ate some of your cake.”
“Thanks?” you said.
“No offense,” she said, “but this is how you’re spending your birthday? Alone on a garage?”
You sighed.
