“Never have I ever,” he says, “been on a date with Tracy Gifford.” Shane is staring at Tim as a bolt of thunder shakes the room. Tim raises his eyes, and a look passes between them that I can’t quite identify. We all sit there, our hands frozen on our paper cups. Tracy Gifford is the girl who was found dead over the summer. Obviously, none of us have been on a date with her. But then Tim raises his cup. And he takes a drink.
