I knew Christian, even if I’m not absolutely sure he knew me.

The firelight is knifelike hot on my cheekbones, slashing red and yellow across my face and the faces of the other kids around me. Behind the ring of firelit faces, darkness creeps, threatening to break the barrier of light and pour in among us.

The heat is almost too much, almost overwhelming, mixed with the blend of voices and faces, dagger-slash grins and gesturing hands. I could take off my hoodie, but I don’t. It’s protecting me.

I close my hand, and my fingers crumple in to my palm, no others there to stop them.

He thought he knew me, every fold of my mind, every strand of my hair. He thought we were untouchable, invincible kids, the ones gossip and rumors and taunts bounced off of like pennies off a brick wall. He thought we were best friends, the way we’d been since kindergarten, when we finished each other’s coloring pages, had sleepovers at each other’s houses.

I knew Christian, even if I’m not absolutely sure he knew me.