“Well, you’re in the dream, too,” Amanda jabbed back lamely.
“Me?” Carolyn batted her eyes innocently.
“At the beginning. You’re in this puffy seafoam dress, like for a bridesmaid. And I’m in a peach one. We’re eating pizza on a bed.”
Carolyn smirked. “Ah, see where ignoring my advice and sending Case to that camp has gotten you? It’s spawned revenge of the junior prom.”
“Junior prom?”
“Those definitely sound like our junior prom dresses. But you swapped them in your dream. Yours was the seafoam one, remember? I lent it to you.”
Amanda shook her head a little, as though hoping to shake the memory back into place. Yes, that was right. That was where that piece of the dream had come from. Carolyn had lent her a seafoam dress. Amanda had dropped out of school by the time the junior prom came around, but she’d gone with a boy who was friends with Carolyn’s boyfriend. She couldn’t remember much more than that.
But the dance itself had been magical, hadn’t it? She’d felt like a regular teenager for once. Even without the details there was a feeling. It was sad that she couldn’t remember more. That was the problem with closing off so much of her past—sometimes the good memories went with the bad. This wasn’t the first time Carolyn had reminded her of some detail from their shared history that Amanda couldn’t quite drag all the way to the surface.
“Junior prom, I know,” Amanda lied. “That’s why the whole thing is so weird.”
“Let’s at least agree thatZachis to blame?” Carolyn smirked. “For everything?”
Amanda ignored Carolyn’s baiting. She knew it came from a place of love; besides, there were times when Amanda felt a little bit of that resentment herself. It was kind of comforting to have Carolyn actually say it.
“The dream isn’t the real problem anyway,” Amanda said.
“Then what is?”
That stupid burn had returned to the back of her throat. “He’s calling again.”
“No.” Carolyn dropped hard onto a kitchen barstool. She knew instantly what Amanda meant, even after all this time. “That fucker.” She sounded angry, but not worried, which was a comfort. Carolyn took a deep breath and then another big swallow of coffee. Then another. She stared down at the counter, considering. “I guess he was bound to slither back out of his hole eventually. Did he say anything this time?”
“Not a word,” Amanda said. “Like last time. Just that breathing.”
Carolyn knew about the last time, too, back when they’d been in California. Carolyn knew everything. All the ugliness. All the shame. She was the only person in the world who did.
“He’s such a disgusting pig.” Carolyn’s face hardened. “Someone should deal with him permanently. Erase him from the surface of the earth.” Her voice was vicious, as she reached across the island to give Amanda’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
What a relief not to be alone with it anymore. But now she needed to tell Carolyn the rest, to confess the most frightening part.
“I think, um, I think he might be following me, too.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Carolyn’s eyes were like saucers as she turned toward the windows. “He’s in Park Slope?”
“I don’t know for sure. I haven’t actually seen him,” Amanda said. “But I’m pretty sure he was behind me on my way to the Gate last night. I heard footsteps following me—who else could it be?”
Carolyn’s eyes were on the front window. Amanda braced for her friend to argue, to say something likeCome on, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t go that far. But Carolyn knew better.
“Fuck no,” Carolyn said with a new can-do tone and a clap of her hands. “We are not going to stand for him following you. Nope. No way.”
“No?”
“Enough of his fucking bullshit,” Carolyn said firmly. “Maybe we can’t have him exterminated. Or we won’t, at least not yet. But he can’t harass you forever. You don’t have to put up with it. You can have him arrested.”
“Arrested?” Amanda looked toward the windows, filled with a mix of dread and delight. “For what?”
“For following you! Get a restraining order.” Carolyn took another large swallow of coffee. She’d finished more than half the mug already. She’d always been that way, a fast drinker—coffee, soda, water. “Then when he violates it—which you and I both know he definitely will—you throw his ass in jail.”
“A restraining order,” Amanda said, trying the words on for size.
She’d heard of it, of course. It was a thing people did. It was theoretically a thingshecould do. She’d gone so far as to file a complaint back in Sacramento when the calls had started the first time. The nice female officer there had heard Amanda out so patiently. She’d been pretty and young with fiery red hair, pale blue eyes, and a noticeably large chest. The kind of woman who might have experienced a fair amount of harassment herself.
