The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried(51)

I count them off on my fingers. “High school, my relationship with Jo, the summer musical, The Break Up Protection Program, a dozen different book series and TV shows—”

“I get it,” he says. “But how important are those?”

“Pretty damn important.”

“Why does graduating matter if you’re not going to be alive to go to college? You’ve got an understudy for the musical.” July scowls when I mention Zora, but I quickly keep going. “I talked to Jo after the funeral, and she’s messed up now, but I think she’s going to be okay eventually. I told her how you fixed the alarm so you could sneak out.”

I grin because I’m pretty proud of that one. Momma never knew, and now Jo can use it too. “That’s fine, but I wish I could tell her all the crap I’ve learned directly instead of hoping she’ll hack my computer and read my diary.”

“She’ll figure it out,” Dino says. “You said it yourself. Your family’s going to be hurting for a long time, but they’re strong. They’ll survive.”

“Whereas, without me you’ll spend the rest of your life wallowing in guilt for not appreciating me and for ditching me to be with a guy you broke up with the day before my funeral, and will end up a lonely alcoholic working at a job you hate and spending your nights thinking of the things you wished you’d said to me when I was still alive?”

Dino snorts and stumbles. “Yeah, I was thinking more like the giant rift in our friendship is what’s keeping you from staying dead.”

“Do you honestly think you were that important to me?”

“You could have woken up while you were still in your house, before the paramedics arrived, in the morgue, in the freezer before I pulled you out. But you didn’t. You woke up in my parents’ funeral home, with me.” He shrugs. “I think that’s got to mean something.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It means you’re annoying enough to wake the dead.”

“I’m trying to be serious.”

“No you’re not,” I tell him. “Not if you honestly think I’m going to believe that our broken friendship is the obstacle keeping me from resting in peace.”

Dino throws up his hands in frustration. “What else could it be then? Go on, July. Tell me what else could have caused what we’ve been through.”

“I just did!”

“Because you might miss some TV shows? I’m sure they’ll have Netflix in heaven.”

“So you think I’m going to heaven?”

“No,” he says. “But I’m sure hell has Hulu.”

The muscles in Dino’s jaw are pulsing. He’s going to grind his teeth to crumbles soon. “Fine,” I say. “Let’s pretend for a second that you’re right.” It’s difficult to say without laughing. “And that I’m not-dead because you’re a dick who ruined our friendship. How do we fix it?”

Dino closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You can begin by not calling me names, and maybe by accepting that you are also to blame for what happened.”

“Now you’re really talking nonsense.”

“Should I make a list? Didn’t we already go over some of the ways you screwed up?”

Yeah, this isn’t funny anymore. I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Dino. “What? Like the Halloween party? Pushing Anya in the pool?”

“That’s one,” Dino says. “There are plenty more.”

“So the way you remember that night is that I was so jealous of you for spending time talking to a girl who wasn’t me, that I shoved her into the pool? Correct?”

“Pretty much,” he says. “Though you forgot the time between arriving at the party and the shove heard ’round the patio, where you stood to the side glaring at her, me, and everyone who came near me.”

I’m clenching my fists so tightly I’m afraid I’m going to tear my skin again, and I have to force myself to relax. “Let me tell you about Anya. You went inside to use the bathroom, and I thought I’d chat her up and see what her deal was. Get to know her. I introduced myself and told her I was your friend and said how great you were, and Anya, with her fake-ass British accent, told me she was always looking for another fag to add to her collection.”

“She did not.”

“She did.”

“But I wasn’t even out yet.” Some of his anger vanishes.

“Oh, Dino, that’s so cute that you thought it wasn’t obvious to anyone with eyes.”

Dino trudges toward the coffin and leans against the closed end near my legs. “That’s why you pushed her?”

I’d be blushing so hard if I could. “Mostly.”

“There’s more?”

“Yeah,” July says. “So she made the comment about you and I called her a bitch, and then she asked me if I worried about whalers when I went to the beach, so I shoved her pretentious ass into the water.” I pause. “As for the hours of glares beforehand . . .” I shrug. “I had cramps, I wanted to go home, and I was annoyed you’d talked me into coming. Nothing sinister there.”

Dino’s not looking at me. His eyes are unfocused and distant. He’s likely replaying that night in his head, looking for what he missed. “You didn’t tell me,” he says.