There's a lot I have to deal with, but nothing crucial enough to manage today. Eleonora sends me a text a few minutes after Kal leaves, telling me that she's coming over with the girls. Olive is a little upset, apparently, for my ignoring her during the party. Wren is . . . Wren. She doesn't take things too personally. Eleonora says she's been trying to get them off my back, and I know she's doing her best. I'm still gonna have to deal with this.

I change into something nicer to make it look that I didn't just leave the house for an hour and came back inside again. The house is tidy and I'm in my nice sweats. They're expensive and ripped at the knees, paired with a nice t-shirt. My definition of nice is a bit loose, but at least this is better than what I was in before.

The girls come in at five, making the house look more crowded than before. We sit awkwardly still for a few minutes. El takes her rightful role in the group, picking up the phone to order pizza. Wren is flipping through channels. She pauses when she sees that The Breakfast Club is playing next. The movie had already started when the pizza gets here. I tip him and Olive gets some plates.

We eat in silence.

On the couch, I sit clutching a pillow, bitting on the ends of it until El tells me to quit it. Olive is on the floor next to the coffee table eating her food and engrossed in the movie. I don't tell them that I've already watched this yesterday after the party because they all know all I do is sit around.

Atlas died ten months ago. I haven't had a full conversation with Olive for more than six months. It's been so long that I'm almost too used to it now to stop, to get out of the house and pretend everything's okay. We just sit there and make small talk, unable to get into the heavy stuff.

In reality, I'm destroying everyone's lived. They take time out of their weekends and come to see me. Wren always has plans for the weekend, but she comes to see me anyway. Even if it's just for an hour.

Their job is to sit there and pity me, telling me I'm pretty or how I'm lucky I don't have to worry about a day job. It's funny how El has never brought her real friends over, friends from work or from the art gallery. The only ones she brings over are people who used to be my friends or people she's not so close with anymore.

I pretend not to mind.

I pretend I don't know that El is fighting with her three-year boyfriend for me because he was getting too upset by the fact that she spends most of her time either working or with me. Once I overheard them arguing in the hallway of her apartment building and him saying he feels like a prostitute with the way she sneaks in and sneaks out in the middle of the night, texting him later to justify it. I can't blame him for disliking me or not wanting to hang out with me too often.

Wren is saying something about the party. I don't listen until she mentions a blond boy. "He came in after you guys," she says, motioning toward El and I. "No one's sure who he was."

They all look at me for a second, but I just shrug.

There's no need to explain this whole situation to them. However, I try to explain it, they'll all think I'm crazy for letting this guy in my house after what he's done. They wouldn't get it. Especially not my sister.

Wren is grinning a dangerous grin. "He was really cute though. Really tall. Must be around six feet tall," she says. "How come all the guys I date are shorter than me."

El laughs.

Wren glares at her. "Yeah, your man is like seven feet. He's huge."

Something changes in El's expression like she wants to change the subject desperately.

"You guys are still together, right?" I ask her. I hate having to do it in front of everyone else, but she never tells me anything about what's going on in her life. It's always me and my problems. She thinks that telling me her own issues takes away from the importance of my own.

"I don't know." Her voice is firm, so we all know to ignore it.

Wren whispers something to her, but El just turns away and starts playing her phone. She always does this. Whenever we try to talk to her about Ian, she pretends to be texting on her phone or starts to play a game and changes the subject. "Wren, what level are you on in Candy Crush?"

Wren rolls her eyes, looking at me for help. "So, what are we gonna do about him?" she asks me.

"Who?"

"Mr. Green-eyed-hottie."

His eyes aren't green, I wanna say. They're blue. Bright blue. How could she not know that if she was staring at him this whole time? I guess it doesn't matter that much to Wren. Hot is hot.

"Luna," Olive says, her voice sudden and loud. "We were just saying that Eleonora's gallery opening is coming up soon."

She hasn't had one for a few months now and I was beginning to worry she abandoned her paintings completely, so I'm glad to know El is still painting. She went on a hiatus lately, saying she needs some inspiration. It's probably me dragging her behind.

She throws this elaborate party where people look at art, drink champagne, and eat fancy food. They stare at art and discuss it using words I can never understand. It's always fun. There's no real need to socialize. All I need to do is stare at the art.

I always come to see her work, though I don't stick around for long enough. It always feels too weird when I stand there waiting for El to introduce me to people that are apart of her life. I leave before she gets the chance, so maybe it's my fault.

Most things are.

"When is it?" I ask.

Going there and seeing all the people walking around, looking happy, drinking and flirting, I almost feel normal. I drink champagne and pretend I belong.

"Three weeks," Olive says, eyeing me. "You're coming, right?"

"Of course." Three weeks is a long time. Maybe I'll be okay by then.

Olive smiles in the way that lets me know she's getting hopeful. There's no need to apologize for not talking to her at the party. Her eyes say it all. She understands. That's how she's always been. We've known each other long enough for us to know what the other needs without communicating it. That's why Atlas loved her too. Whenever I'm not around, I would see them hanging out. She'll make him laugh and it would warm my heart to know that my two best friends like each other. It probably would've made me jealous if it happened a few years earlier, but Olive had come out to me in middle school. It wasn't that big of a deal because I had known earlier and pretended not to know just so that she could have her euphoric moment where she discovers who she is. I can still remember the look on her face, nervous as I went to hug her in the middle of the empty hallway during gym class.

"How about we go do something tonight. We haven't gone out in, like, a month?" she says.

I realize she must've seen this differently like it's me letting her know I'm ready to do things again. Not tonight. This is the worst thing for this to happen. If it were another day, I'd be ready to go wherever they asked me.

The last time we actually left the house together we were gonna see a movie, and the time before that we had dinner. It's not like I never go out anymore. It's just hard for me to enjoy myself. Everyone gives me pitiful looks and avoids mentioning their own relationships or anything positive that happens.

I sigh, hoping she can understand. "I know it sounds bad when I'm constantly saying this, but I'm having a really weird day and all I need is to sleep it off," I say. "I can't really think straight right now."

Eleonora perks up, putting her phone down. "What happened?"

I part my lips, trying to find a way to explain this so that they'll understand and no one will get mad at me for abandoning them. "I dropped one of the letters that I wrote to Atlas and some guy found it, and things got weird," I say, skipping over most of the significant details. "What I'm saying is, I'm just not feeling it tonight."

They all stare at me for a moment saying nothing, like they're sharing an unspoken thought. Wren stares at the TV screen and Eleonora pretends to be texting.

Olive speaks up. "Honestly, Luna, you're never feeling it." With that she stands up, leaving us awestruck as she walks out the door.