Between by Jessica Warman

even if those things wouldn’t matter forever, they mattered then.”
    Alex opens his mouth to respond. But before he has a chance to reply with what I’m sure would be another one of his biting observations, Mera starts to talk. As she speaks, my memory of who she is becomes clearer and clearer.
    Mera Hollinger: eighteen years old. Blond hair, long and highlighted, just like all of my other friends. She’s a swimmer, and a very good one at that. She’s also kind of stupid. She’s all beauty and athletic prowess, no brains whatsoever. Out of all my friends, I like her the least. I’m almost disappointed that she’s the one who found me; aside from her other flaws, Mera can be melodramatic. Once school starts, I’m sure she’ll be taking full advantage of the fact that she discovered my body, using every opportunity to tell the story, making sure to mention what I looked like when they pulled me out of the water.
    Then there’s Mera’s boyfriend: Topher Paul, also newly eighteen, who’s sitting beside her now, holding her hand. They were the first couple I knew of in our school to have sex, back in the tenth grade. They’re joined at the hip. They’ll probably get married someday. Topher is a real high school celebrity, a football star, the only son of wealthy parents who dote on him like he’s God’s gift to the world. He is prone to fits of anger, sometimes difficult to get along with, but deep down he’s a nice guy. We have known each other since preschool.
    “We were just having a regular party,” Mera says.
    “There was nothing out of the ordinary,” Topher echoes.
    “And you are?” Joe Wright is frantically taking notes; there are visible beads of sweat on his forehead even though it’s cool inside the boat.
    “Topher Paul. Christopher. My father is Dr. Michael Paul.” Topher pauses for effect. “The dentist,” he adds. “He’s Noank’s most popular dentist and oral surgeon.”
    Joe gives Topher an odd look. He says, his tone dry and sarcastic, “Well, then. I suppose that would explain your beautiful smile.”
    “His dad’s a dentist? I don’t see what the big deal is,” Alex says, confused.
    “Hey, that’s my friend,” I tell him. “And it kind of is a big deal. His dad is on the board of directors for the country club. And, you know, Topher’s mom was Miss Connecticut once, too.”
    “Hmm. How important and meaningful. She was really contributing to the betterment of society, wasn’t she?”
    “Just be quiet. I’m trying to pay attention here.”
    “So it was a normal party,” Joe is saying, “and ‘normal’ for you kids involves drugs and alcohol?” He raises an eyebrow in my parents’ direction. “Who bought the alcohol?”
    When nobody says anything, Joe lets out a long sigh. “This is serious, now. I need to know where you got the booze.”
    “It was on the boat,” my dad whispers. He squeezes his eyes shut. A single fat tear drips down his white, whiskery cheek. “We keep the bar stocked.” He looks up, glances around at my friends. “We trusted them,” he says.
    Caroline Michaels, who has been sitting silently on the floor until now, finally speaks up. “We weren’t that drunk,” she says. “Liz wasn’t a big drinker. It was just something to do.”
    Caroline: seventeen years old. As sweet and naive as they come. She is the youngest of four girls. She made head cheerleader at age sixteen. Her claim to fame is the ability to do a triple back handspring, which she does often and with great enthusiasm at football games, flashing her perfect, Lycra-covered ass at the adoring crowd in the bleachers. Her parents travel frequently, and most of the time they go to exotic places like Vienna or Athens or Egypt. She’s well known for throwing the most amazing parties—I somehow know this, even though I can’t remember anything specific from any of them. It’s like somebody has taken my memory and deleted entire sections, simply wiping it clean, while