Free The Sixteenth of June by Maya Lang

not. Apparently Stephen and Nora didn’t talk about reality. “You want to come with me to Pine Grove today?” “Nah, I’m planning on pulling out some more of my hair.” Theirs is a different model of friendship, one Leo cannot grasp. Where it is perfectly understandable to have surprises surface. Where it is okay to have kept things hidden all along.
    â€œNothing ever happened between us,” Nora told him early on. “Just so you know.” Leo was relieved to hear it. Stephen and Nora had been best friends since her freshman year. It was hard not to imagine a drunken night, a onetime hookup they vowed to forget. “I know all about the appeal of upperclassmen,” Leo teased. “I fell for one myself.” Nora gazed back at him, her eyes level.
    Nora wasn’t Stephen’s type, anyway. Occasionally he brought a date to a wedding, always a ridiculous model type, an art-history or French major who made June’s nostrils flare with jealousy. Nora was pretty—brown hair, green eyes—but unthreatening. She was pretty in a way that drew you in rather than turned you off.
    Stephen’s girls knew their beauty. They were like ostriches with their long, skinny legs, parading around on high heels. They wore plunging necklines to reveal bony torsos. Their hair moved in sheets. They were delicate creatures, used to getting their way. Stephen’s indifference posed a challenge to them.
    â€œHe’s never said a word to you about it?” Leo once prodded. “About what?” Nora asked. “His love life! Why no one sticks!” Nora shot him one of her looks, protective and fierce. “That’s his business, Leo,” she said firmly.
    Maybe. But when you keep your business a secret, it becomes everyone’s business. It becomes the thing people worry about, the elephant in the room.
    And that’s what Nora and Stephen share. They are the kids at the playground who go off by themselves, whispering behind a bush, refusing to play with everyone else.
    That would be fine if they made their reasons clear. But neither of them feels compelled to explain their behavior. They don’t mind leaving puzzles in their wake. “Wasn’t the whole point for you to do opera?” Nora’s dad had said when she graduated. Nora glared at him, but Leo felt a twist of sympathy for the guy. Leo knew what it was like to be on the outside, scratching your head.
    Leo’s job, like a janitor’s, is to push along, never asking questions or complaining about the messes. Never mind that he wants to be a source of support. Your problems are my problems, he wants to tell Nora. Your skeletons are my skeletons. That’s what love is.
    They rely on him to remain steadfast. And how they take him for granted, their beloved dope! They don’t see the gift of his predictability. They’ve never had to worry about him or been thrown for a loop.
    His parents do it, too, teasing him constantly. He is goofy Leo to them, with a humdrum job and a love of sports. They depend on him for it, but turn up their noses as well. Leo is like the corner Wawa: unexciting, but convenient. Always available.
    Growing up, Stephen had been a vortex of need. From as early as Leo can remember, the family catered to Stephen, shaping itself around him. He fought with their parents often, hiding out at the Strand on weekends. He wrote poetry and tacked his dark creations to his bedroom wall. He pierced his ear in high school, a silver loop in the cartilage, up high. And didn’t that mean something, depending on which ear? Or was that only for earrings that went through the lobe? Their parents stayed up late conferring about it, wringing their hands. Leo made himself a promise to never cost them sleep.
    Teachers used to call home to make recommendations about this gifted, brooding boy. Stephen wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t like the preppy kids at school who took