“YOU SOUND LIKE GENERAL GIVING A motivational speech,” we both give a choked laugh.

Zak shakes his head, “Oh man,” pause, “You’re wrong, you know. Not all your friends have gone. Heck, do I look like I’m dead?”

I don’t get to reply. Sam kicks the door open, carrying a cake.

“And you got your best friend right here. Happy birthday, Darry!”

I frown. What?

“It’s my birthday?” I ask, confused.

He pauses for a moment as if just registering that I have been speaking. Then he quickly covers up his shock and continues.

“Sixteenth, yeah,” he says with a laugh, then pauses, “Come on, Darry, you didn’t seriously forget your birthday, did you? Seriously? September 14?” Sam says, eyebrows raised incredulously.

Zak chuckles, collapsing into a leather chair.

“She got to camp and didn’t know what to say when someone asked how old she was,” he says.

“I hope you remember the Ceremony of Eight because it's your day,” Sam says.

I honestly haven’t thought about the Ceremony of Eight. It’s a celebration that begins once the sun sets, to when the star Jupiter shows. It’s celebrated every eight years, when someone turns eight, sixteen, twenty-four, etc. Usually, kids dream of their Ceremony of Eight. I smile at the thought, but then my face falls. Familiar faces will be everywhere. I’m not sure I’m ready to confront them. Will they hate me? Judge me? Or worse, will they pretend nothing happened?

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“I remember,” is all I can manage.

“Oh come one, Darsal. Don’t tell me you’re not excited for your Ceremony of Eight,” Zak whines, then adds, “I’m coming right back.”

“Where are you going, dufus?” Sam calls as he leaves the room.

“Getting a fork for the cake. I’m an almost eighteen-year-old boy. You can’t expect me to leave a cake just sitting there,” he replies before disappearing.

Sam only rolls his eyes and takes Zak’s former chair.

“You’re not excited about tonight, are you?”

I shrug. Honestly, I don’t know.

“If you don’t want to do it, do it for Carrie. It was what she was most excited about."

I say nothing.

“Do it for Carrie...”

It resonates in my mind as if trapped. There is a long moment where I don’t respond.

“Do you think everyone will hate me after what I did?” I finally ask.

Now it’s Sam’s turn to leave a long silence.

“I’m not supposed to say anything, but the Elders had a meeting last night. They had been squabbling over punishments, but my father finally told them you had already paid enough. That shut them up because everyone was fond of…” once again, his voice trails off, “They all agreed on this. My father did everything in his power to back you up. It took a lot of convincing them to drop the punishments. But no one hates you, Darry. No one hates you. In the beginning, no one got why you ran away. Rumours spread, but now they all get it. They understand now.”

I smile my thanks. A question comes to mind, but I already know the answer. I ask it anyway.

“Sam, who told them my point of view?” I ask.

“Well, I might have had something to do with it,” Sam finally admits, before Zak comes barrelling back into the library, holding a fork like a sword.

“Cake time,” he says, and he and Sam eat, “Darsal, a couple of women are asking for you. I think the dressing of the makeup team,” he says, pointing to the door.

I groan. They laugh good-naturedly as I drag my feet out of the room.