JAMIE: That you needed to go home. That’s what started our fight. You were furious.
SHAY: I don’t think I want to know what I said.
（Silence.）
Tell me.
JAMIE: You said I was jealous. That I judged you for everything you’d done—pageants, cheerleading, going on dates. And I was just some wannabe rebel who thought I was smarter than everyone, too good for the town, when in reality, I was just an average guy from a nice family. Nothing to write home about.
SHAY: Shit.
JAMIE: It was a really good insult because it was true. All the more impressive, considering how drunk you were. But the part that really hurt was when you said I’d always tried to keep you to myself, and now that other people liked you, I was losing it. You said I was a bad friend.
（Rustling.）
SHAY: I’m sorry, Jamie. That wasn’t true.
（Sighing.）
JAMIE: Yes, it was. I deserved it. That’s why I got mad and ran away.
But this isn’t about rehashing our fight. Tell me what else you remember.
SHAY: I know Anderson brought me to his room. I have a vague memory of it—this dark space, with a bed in the center—a red bed, red walls, and tall windows, all the way up to the ceiling, with moonlight shining through. The moonlight was really bright, I remember that.
JAMIE: Shay, it was raining prom night. Remember, we had to carry umbrellas? There was no moonlight. And Anderson’s room was blue. He was a huge Cowboys fan. His sheets, the walls—all blue and white.
（Creaking springs.）
JAMIE: Where are you going?
SHAY: Did I invent that memory?
JAMIE: Maybe your brain was just trying to give you something to hold on to.
SHAY: I don’t remember what happened next. When I think about it, I get this sensation of pressure. Rolling around, feeling dizzy. I think I remember a door swinging open, and people laughing. I can see it, like a blurry movie. But I guess I could’ve made it up.
JAMIE: No, that part happened. Some of the guys from the football team walked in on you.
SHAY: I have to ask…
JAMIE: They found you having sex.
SHAY: Right.
（Silence.）
I guess that’s how I lost my virginity. I’d thought so, but it was blurry, so there was always a chance…
JAMIE: You seriously have no memory of having sex with Anderson?
（Silence.）
I’m going back to Heller to fucking kill him.
SHAY: Calm down.
JAMIE: They put his picture on a billboard when he won state. He’s the high school football coach now.
（Silence.）
The same thing that happened to Laurel happened to you.
SHAY: Finding her in the basement that day was like looking at myself, back through time.
（Rustling.）
At some point, Anderson must’ve left me alone in his room, and I must have slept, or just blacked out, because I woke up naked and confused. My body felt… I could tell something had happened. I was sore, in places… It was like my body was someone else’s. I would’ve left it behind if I could’ve. Just stepped right out of it, like crumpled clothes, and left the party, never to be seen or heard from again. But there was no easy escape. I had to put my clothes back on, and go back downstairs. Everyone was waiting for me. It was like they knew.
JAMIE: The football guys were talking about you. I told them to shut up, but, Shay, I didn’t realize how drunk you were. I thought being with Anderson was what you wanted. I was so mean when you asked me to take you home.