“I’ve been thinking,” she said.
She hung the octopus upside down by its tentacles and spiraled it around.
“You can try all you want, you know? You can do everything in your power. You can talk to yourself about all the rational reasons…”
She seemed lost in her head for a moment. Then she blinked and turned directly to you.
“But you can’t help who you love.”
You couldn’t look into her pink eyes when she said this, so instead you stared into the octopus’s googly ones. You finally managed a glance and tried not to notice how pretty she looked.
“I agree,” you said.
She touched your hand and smiled, and you felt that same charge that went through you on the garage so many months ago. She kept it there longer than you thought she would. Maybe it was the high. But then she seemed to notice and got up to get another brownie. While she was gone, Sean wandered over and sat down across from you on an overstuffed leather chair. His freckles were prominent from all the riding he was doing, and he wore a T-shirt that readCYCOPATH. He looked at you, holding on to your stuffed animal, and burst out laughing.
“What?” you said.
“That thing is ragged, dude,” he said.
You looked down at it with fresh eyes and saw just how rough it really was. One of its legs was hanging by a knotted thread, and there was a small rip under its left eye that looked like a prison tattoo.
“You’re hurting Ringo’s feelings,” you said.
“Ringo looks like he made some bad choices in life,” said Sean.
You could hear Diana in the kitchen, clattering the silverware, looking for a knife to cut the brownies. A drawer squeaked open.
“Case, please tell me it wasn’t you,” he said.
Instantly, your whole body stiffened, and you found you couldn’t even blink.
“What wasn’t me?” you said with a mouth dry as an old sponge.
“Who told her.”
His face was as serious as you’d ever seen it. His brow low, and his mouth a straight line. You couldn’t remember if you had ever outright lied to Sean. About anything. Even the Pokémon card you ripped that he never would have known about—you even told him about that, crying out to him in the middle of the night, sick with guilt.
“I…”
Diana yanked opened the dishwasher, humming some imperceptible tune.
“Ugh!” Sean said, sucking in a breath. “Forget I said that! I just don’t know how she…”
In the kitchen Diana dropped the knife and started laughing.
“I was so careful,” he said.
You nodded.
“Guys!” said Diana. “Youhaveto come see this!”
Without sharing a look, you both got up and padded over the carpet onto the cold tile floor of the kitchen. You couldn’t look at Sean, so you stared at the scene before you: Diana laughing, her mouth stuffed full of brownie, pointing down. It took you a second to realize what was funny until you saw the knife. When she’d dropped it, it had fallen inches from her bare right foot, and stuck straight up out of the tile like something from a horror movie.
“Shit, Diana,” said Sean, snapping out of his stoned trance. “You could have been really hurt.”
He reached down and yanked the knife out of the tile like a sword from the stone. Diana’s face changed then, the goofy smile disappearing. She looked at the knife in his hand.
“Since when do you care if I’m hurt?” she said.
