August 17
“One last thing,” I say. “Lisa’s not your real name, is it? Who are you, really?”
“A lady has to keep some secrets, Fran Minervudottir,” Lisa says. “Even among friends, some things are best left unsaid. See you tomorrow, kiddo.”
It’s evening when Kyle comes into the apartment to find me hugging my knees on the couch. “You’re that cold?” she asks, dropping her backpack. “I mean, you can turn up the thermostat if…”
“I’m not cold,” I say, lying. “Just… have a lot to think about.”
“This is that thing you couldn’t tell me before,” she says. Damn, but that girl knows how to read minds, or something. “Can you tell me now?”
I look her in the eye. She’s serious. She really wants to know. And if I tell her it could come out worse than if I did nothing. I don’t know why, but a huge wave of deja vu comes over me. “We’ve done this before,” I say.
“Yeah, when you were going out with Stephen–”
“No, no,” I say. “This conversation. We’ve had it before, I know we have,” I say.
Kyle opens her mouth to speak, but pauses. “You’re right,” she says, thoughtfully. “Though I don’t know what it was about. Damn. This is weird.”
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