The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried(25)

“Deal.”

“And after, we are going to discuss what’s happening to you and decide what to do.”

“Maybe,” July says, and I know it’s the best I’m going to get.

I let out a long sigh. “Well, I guess you’ll finally get to meet Rafi. But first, we have to make a stop.”





JULY

DINO THROWS ANOTHER SHIRT ON the floor and stands in front of his closet in a pair of dark jeans that hang off his hips. “This is impossible.”

“Then pick a lame outfit, and let’s go.” I was surprised when Dino told me we needed to run by his house so he could change. For someone who’s spent the whole night saying how much he didn’t want to go to this party, he’s acting like it’s prom.

Dino kicks off the jeans and pulls on a pair of preppy gray shorts and throws a black-and-white short-sleeve hoodie on. “I can’t go looking like a slob.” He ducks into the bathroom connected to his room and tries to tame his hair.

“Since when did you start caring how you look?”

He doesn’t answer, and it’s okay. I already know. It was when he started dating Rafi and hanging out with the other kids from the community center. Right around the time he and I stopped being friends. While the water’s running, I sit at Dino’s desk and pop open his laptop. Being someone’s best friend means never going through the photos on their phone without asking first, and never looking at their browser history. But, as he loves pointing out, we’re not best friends anymore. I’ll try not to judge him too harshly.

The boy spends way too much time on the Internet. Not that I’m judging. Definitely not judging that. Or that. Nope. Not me. But then I find what I’m looking for. He lied when he told me he’d quit reading The Breakup Protection Program. Based on his history, he’s been checking it for updates three or four times a day, even after my supposed death. The water shuts off, and I slam the laptop.

“What about me?” I ask. “Think I should change?”

Dino pokes his head out of the bathroom and looks at me. “Actually—”

“I was kidding.”

“Oh.”

A garment bag hangs off of Dino’s closet door, and I unzip it and peek inside. It’s a sleek black suit with a white shirt and black tie. This is what he was going to wear to my funeral. It’s weird to even think those words. My funeral. I can’t deny that I’m curious what that would have looked like, but it’s not like I can attend as a spectator. Either way, Dino’s right; I need answers so I can decide how to move forward.

“Earlier you were acting like you’d rather have your eyes poked with needles than go to Rafi’s party,” I say. “Don’t you want to figure out why I’m not-dead or why no one else is dying or whatever?” Dino’s open-mindedness to the weird, unexplainable bits of life is one of the things I’ve always admired about him.

Dino struts out of the bathroom. His wavy hair is wet and combed to the side, leaving a wide part that kind of looks like a bald spot. I’m not certain it’s better than it was before, but we’ll never escape this room if I tell him that.

“I’d rather have my toenails pulled out than go.”

“What changed?”

“Why do you care?” he asks.

I shrug.

Dino sits on his bed while he pulls on socks and shoes. “It’s Leon.”

“Who’s Leon?”

“One of Rafi’s friends. Though I don’t know if friend totally covers it. They’re like siblings to him. He looks after them. Takes care of them. When Kandis’s dad got out of jail and came home, Rafi convinced his parents to let her stay in the guest room. Only took a week for the guy to break parole and wind up back in prison.”

Dino’s saying these words, and while I recognize some of them, the rest don’t make sense. Daddy loves Star Trek: The Next Generation, so I love it too, and I’ve seen every episode. There’s this one called “Darmok” where Picard is trapped on a planet with this alien guy who speaks a language no one can understand. And it turns out the language is based on references to things. So, like, if I said, “Janet Jackson, at the Super Bowl,” most folks would get that I’m referencing the unfairness of how after Justin Timberlake exposed Janet’s nipple for millions to see, she was banned from performing there again while he was invited back.

Well, Dino and I were like that once. People who didn’t know us could’ve snooped on our conversations, but they wouldn’t have understood even a quarter of what we said. It’s the kind of connection that forms when two people have known each other as long and as deeply as we have. Only now, the references have changed, and I barely understand him. In that episode of Star Trek, the inability to communicate leads to the death of the alien. I hope I can avoid the same fate.

“What does Kandis’s dad have to do with Leo?”

“Leon,” Dino says. “And nothing.”

“Then why—”

Dino stops in the middle of tying his shoes and glances at me. “Context.”

I make an O with my mouth.

“Anyway, Leon recently got over this breakup. For weeks it was an endless cycle of crying and Netflix and ice cream. He was a mess, but Rafi took care of him, which means I took care of him.”