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“How can you say it was all a lie?�� I ask, just above a whisper. “Matt was my best friend. I loved him that way always. ‘We have to look out for her.�� That was the last thing he said to me alone. And then he died. What was I supposed to do, Frank? Tell me?”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“He was always worrying about me �� even when we were kids. If I scraped my knee or fell off my bike, he was the first one to help me up and make sure Mom got a Band-Aid.��
“I remember.�� I smile. “He was the quintessential big brother.��
“He was. But that’s just it �� he’s not here to protect me anymore, Anna. And you don’t have to be, either. I know I let stuff get crazy. I didn’t mean to be like that �� it just kind of happened. You couldn’t have changed that. I �� it was something I had to go through myself.��
My throat tightens. “I felt like I let him down,�� I say. “All that stuff with smoking and Johan and Jake �� I didn’t take care of you. I couldn’t even keep that one simple promise.��
“Anna, my brother died. There’s no way you could protect me from that. It’s up to me, now. I let him down. I let me down.”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“There’s more, Anna. When we first got to California,�� she says, “you asked me if I remembered your birthday party.�� I nod, picking at a thread on her comforter. “I did remember. Matt was acting like such a space cadet that night after we got home �� like he was floating. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out, but of all the things that he could have been thinking about, you were the last �� I mean, my mind just didn’t even go there. You were like our sister.��
“But I–��
“Wait �� let me get this out.�� She looks at me hard, her broken wing eyebrow trembling to keep the tears back. “After I brushed my teeth, I walked into his room. He was sitting on his bed, playing with that blue glass necklace he always wore, a big smile on his face. Remember the necklace?��
The necklace.
“Of course.��
“I asked him what was so funny. He jumped a little, not knowing I’d been watching him smile there like a goofy little kid. He said it was nothing �� just that he had fun at the party. And I believed him, all the way up until the day I read your journal. That’s when it all made sense. All the times he’d ask me about who you liked at school, or who wanted to take you to whatever dance.��
She’s quiet as I digest her story, putting the pieces together to form a complete whole from the missing half that’s haunted me since that night �� how did he really feel about me? Was it just one stupid moment, perpetuated a little too long, only to be forgotten as quickly as it came? As soon as he went away to school?
“I was in love with him forever �� since I was, like, ten,�� I confess.
“Yeah,�� she says. “You both were in love. I know that now. We were all so close, you know? I just didn’t see it coming until I read your �� I’m sorry, Anna.��
I close my eyes, fighting back the image of her hand on my journal. “It’s okay.”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“The frosting shirt from your cake fight weeks earlier �� just like the one you have in your closet. It was hanging inside his closet door, blue and crusty. It’s probably still in there.��
I smile, picturing Matt hanging his frosted shirt behind the door that night at the same time I was stuffing mine into its plastic bag in my room next door, totally freaked out about what had just happened.
“I didn’t think you recognized it,�� I say. “That day we went through my closet before the trip. You wanted me to throw it out.��
“I didn’t recognize it that day. But once I saw the picture in your journal, it started to come together.”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“Sorry.�� I’m surprised and glad she doesn’t recognize it. I run my thumb back and forth over a crusty bit on the shoulder strap as a five-second version of the cake fight flashes behind my eyes like a movie stuck on quick search. Don’t cry over spilt frosting, Anna. “I just �� I like this one.��
“What for?�� she asks.
Just tell her.
“It’s from the �� it’s just the–�� I bite my lower lip.
Tell her.
“Anna? What’s wrong?��
Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just that it’s from the first time your brother kissed me and made me promise not to tell you. And I was in love with him forever, and he was supposed to tell you about it in California, and we were all going to live happily ever after. I still write him letters in the journal he gave me, which he doesn’t answer, since he’s dead and all. But other than that? Honestly, it’s nothing.
“Anna?�� She watches me with her sideways face again.
“Huh? Oh, sorry. Nothing. I’m fine. I �� I’ll get rid of it later.”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“Dear Matt, We finally made it to California, and it’s just like you told me. I feel you here with us
�� I think Frankie does, too.�� How dare you write about me in here! How dare you write to my brother!
You think just because you fooled around a few times he cared about you? You think he wouldn’t have ditched you the second he found some new girl at Cornell? Get over yourself!”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“So just over a year ago, there was this guy. I really liked him. I mean really �� since I was a kid.��
“Did Frankie know him?��
“The three of us were best friends. We basically grew up together.��
“C�dz�����������ٱ��.��
“Very. So anyway, last year on my birthday, he finally kissed me.�� Sam stays quiet, focused on his feet taking off and landing against the sand. It feels strange to tell him about this for so many reasons, but the words are coming too fast for me to stop, even if I want to. “We started hanging out all the time ��
even more than before. Every night. Only we didn’t know how to tell Frankie, because we didn’t want her to freak or feel left out or whatever.��
“Makes sense,�� Sam says.
“He thought it would be better if he told her himself, so I promised him that I wouldn’t say anything. But before he could talk to her about it, he–�� I almost choke on the word, holding my hand against Sam’s arm to stop our forward motion along the shore.
“What did he do?�� Sam asks.
“He just �� he �� I’m sorry. Wait.�� The words of this story have passed a thousand times from my hand to the pages of my journal, but never from my lips to the ears of another living soul. I take a few deep breaths before I’m able to meet Sam’s eyes and say it. “He died, Sam.”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer