Megan, 16 Years Old

Monday, 10:14 PM

Megan: Hey, Nora. I know it's been twelve years. I'm reaching out because I saw the invite for Saturday's get-together.

Nora: Megan.

Megan: Yeah.

Nora: I wasn't expecting this.

Megan: I wasn't expecting to write it either. I've had this chat open for months, and I keep closing it.

Nora: Are you coming Saturday?

Megan: No. I've been living in Chicago for five years. I'm not back in Springfield until July.

Nora: Chicago. I pictured you in L.A.

Megan: That was when I was eighteen. Things changed. I work here. I live with Clara, my partner.

Nora: I'm happy for you.

Megan: Thanks. What about you?

Nora: Married to Paul. A four-year-old daughter. We live in Oakwood.

Megan: Paul Castner.

Nora: Yes.

Megan: The guy you started dating three weeks after you rejected me in front of the school.

Nora: Megan.

Megan: I'm not writing to blame you. I promise. But there are things I said to the walls for years and not to you.

Nora: Say them.

12:18 AM

Megan: I was sixteen. You were too. We spent seven months passing notes in English class. Three months making out at my place when my mom left for work.

Nora: I remember.

Megan: The day of the blue bench, when Molly saw us. We went back to school on Monday. I sat next to you. You got up. Three times in a row, Nora. I moved to another desk so you wouldn't feel forced.

Nora: I know.

Megan: That same week, you told Molly in front of five people that the thing on the bench was all me. That you weren't one of those. You said it just like that. One of those.