16

Astrid and I walked through the dark, quiet streets. I was supposed to be scared. I should've been anxious—any second, the same person who stabbed three girls, including my best friend, could come out of nowhere and do the same to us.

But I wasn't scared.

Not even a little.

In fact, I was calm. Maybe it was Astrid's gentle footsteps in sync with mine. Maybe it was the scent of the arriving dawn. I couldn't tell. All I knew was I didn't want the street to end. I wanted to keep walking beside her. I wanted more time.

"What was that about?" I asked. "Why did you ask me something like that?"

"The question should be... why was that your answer?"

She stopped walking. The moon was so bright I could see her face clearly.

"I—I was messing around," I said.

"Then I was messing around, too."

"Even the kiss?"

"We didn't kiss."

"But if Douglas didn't knock, we would have, right?"

I didn't know why I was pushing it. Maybe I really did want to kiss her. Maybe it was just the alcohol. Or maybe it was because she was the only thing I'd felt since Maisie died, and I didn't want to let go of that.

I needed something strong to feel. I needed Astrid.

"Yes," she said. "Of course we would've kissed."

"W-What?"

"Don't 'what' me," she said, laughing as she started walking again. I saw her pat her pants pockets. "Ah, man. Only one cigarette left."

"Astrid—"

"I don't want you going back to that house party."

That came out of nowhere. It threw me off. "Why all of a sudden? You're acting weird."

"Because."

"Because what?"

"On Monday, let's meet again," she said, spinning around to face me. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A strand of her pink, frizzy hair. A strand I had to stop myself to touch. "We'll have a house party, just the two of us."

I smiled. "How would that work?"

"We'll..." She paused, then looked at me. "We'll probably sit in the bathroom again and talk about nonsense. I mean... that was fun, right?"

I was supposed to be looking for answers—answers about Maisie, about the murderer—but instead, I was standing in front of this amazing, strange, beautiful girl, blushing. And suddenly, I realized: finding the truth wasn't my responsibility. Maybe it was time to feel something good again.

"Right."

"Okay," Astrid said, sighing. "I'll go now."

That startled me. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere, Clover. To do some business."

"I'll come with you."

"You can't. This is a me thing."

"Then let's make it an us thing."

She laughed. "It can't be an us thing. Just listen to me, okay? Go home."

It was pathetic, but I still asked, "Will I see you Monday?"

There was the slightest shift in her eyes when I said that.

"Yes," she said. "Of course, dumbo."

"Are you sure?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Just answer me."

She exhaled. "Yes. You'll see me on Monday."

"Okay."

"See you, then."

"S-See you."

"Did you just stutter?!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Alright," she laughed, and soon I was laughing, too.

"Okay."

"Bye. For real this time."

I smiled. "Bye, Astrid."

I stood there and watched her walk away. One hand in her pocket, the other tangled in her hair. I stayed there long enough to see her glance up at the stars three times, and lift her nose in the air twice, like she was trying to smell the moon.

But as she said, the moon doesn't have a smell. It isn't anything special.

But at least the moon watched over her.

I don't know to what extent Astrid's for real in her goodbye meant, but I guess it's true enough that I never saw her again. 

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