“It doesn’t mean anything,” Luna had said defensively afterwards. “Don’t get all weird about it.”
It doesn’t mean anything to you, Diana had thought, silently correcting her, all the while telling herself that she did like boys, that having a boyfriend would be better.
That had been the first time she had lied to her new friend, an absence of disagreement allowing for the suggestion that she felt the same, that she wasn’t going to get weird about it. As they got older, it became a regular thing, a drunk party trick that sometimes Luna would force her to enact for the delight of others, mostly Bradley and his friends. They thought it was hot, so they said, but Diana knew that they weren’t looking at her, and, if they were, it wasn’t really her they were seeing; she could have been any gir
