Fair. All solid points. “Maybe it’s her moving-on party,” Kasey offered, rather wishing now Meridian hadn’t flaked. Meridian would’ve been able to explain, in the same way she’d explained to Kasey, why this party made perfect sense, for reasons Kasey was blanking on.
Oh well. She’d tried. She added another cup to her city—and almost knocked the whole thing over when the girl said, “Hard to move on when they still haven’t found a body. Too morbid?” she asked as Kasey steadied her model. One cup rolled out of her reach. The girl caught it. “Sorry.” She placed the cup atop two others, where it wobbled. Kasey fixed it. “I keep forgetting it’s different here. Where I’m from, bodies are every … okay, yeah, I’ll stop.” She bobbed her drink at Kasey. “That’s me for you. Yvone, queen of gaffes.”
Silence followed.
The girl was waiting, Kasey realized after a delay, for Kasey to introduce herself as well.
Was it too late to come clean about her identity? Probably. “Meridian.”
“Sorry?”
“Meridian.” How did people talk at parties? Did people talk at parties? Why couldn’t this girl have ordered a drink like everyone else and been on her merry way? “Meridian,” Kasey repeated as the music turned up.
“What?”
“Meridian.” Was it condescending to spell out a name? Or overkill, when the name was as long as Meridian? She should’ve picked something shorter, in hindsight. “M-E-R—”
“Wait, I got it.” The girl blinked at Kasey three times, causing Kasey’s Intraface to emit a cheery little ding as it projected Kasey’s ID over her head.
MIZUHARA, KASEY
Rank: 2
Crap.
Kasey canceled the projection, then checked to see if anyone had noticed. Outside, in streets, schools, shops, or any public domain, rank was auto-displayed, the number over your head dogging you wherever you went. Private domains were the only respite. As such, it was considered bad form to swagger around with your rank when it wasn’t required.
It was also bad form to lie about your name.
“You’re…” A frown spread across Yvone’s face. “Celia’s…”
Abort. The LOG OUT screen, already up on Kasey’s Intraface, was just a CONFIRM button away when something clapped onto her shoulder.
A hand.
“Kasey?”
She turned—
—and knew, the second she saw the boy, that he was one of Celia’s. Tristan, his name must have been. Or Dmitri. One of the two.
Which?
“Kasey,” repeated Tristan/Dmitri, blinking as if he didn’t quite believe his eyes. Behind him, the crowd danced on. Kasey would’ve given anything to be in the thick of it right now. “Thank Joules. I’ve been trying to reach you for months.”
As had everyone else. Spam and malware had flooded her Intraface. All unknown contacts, she’d had to filter out.
“I need to know if it was my fault,” Tristan/Dmitri said, voice rising when Kasey shook her head. “I need to know!”
Yvone’s gaze darted between the two of them, sponging up the exchange.
“I can’t sleep at night.” Tristan/Dmitri’s chest heaved. He took a wet-sounding breath. Kasey’s mouth was dry as dust. “Haven’t been able to, ever since … I thought we were cool, after the breakup, I thought—but now I wonder—was it something I said? Something I did?”
Dmitri, Kasey wanted to say; she did, after all, have a fifty-fifty chance at guessing right. It’s not your fault. Not anyone’s fault. Sometimes there were no answers. No cause and effect, no perpetrators and victims. Only accidents.
But those weren’t the words of a loving sister, Kasey knew. Just didn’t know how to act like one. A loving sister wouldn’t let statistics guide her decisions. Tristan or Dmitri? Wouldn’t be throwing a party without knowing why, motive left open to interpretation. Tristan or Dmitri?
How could she be okay with fifty-fifty?
How could she be okay when no one else was?
The bass gobbled up Kasey’s heartbeat. Her chest felt weak. She fumbled for the kitchen island behind her, clutching it like the rim of a pool. “Hey, buddy,” she heard Yvone saying to Tristan/Dmitri, her voice murky as if buffered by water. “You’ve got the wrong person.”
“I saw her ID just now.”
“Well, you saw wrong.”
It was nice of Yvone to cover for Kasey. Kasey should have thanked her. Celia would have, not that she’d ever be in Kasey’s situation, but if, hypothetically.