I wanted it to go on forever. I didn’t want to go to sleep and have it be done with. THE LAST SLEEPOVER.

I came up with the idea while Kevin was in the bathroom. We could tell scary stories. That always got us wired up, too scared to go to sleep but too brave to admit it. It would get me a few extra hours with Kevin, at least. And that’s all I really wanted.

“Okay, scary stories,” I said when he came back into the bedroom, situating himself inside the sleeping bag beside mine. It read ‘KEVIN’ in big bold Sharpie letters near the part where it unzipped because his mother was convinced someone would steal it when he went to sleepaway camp three years ago. I knew that because we were friends and friends told each other everything, like how their mothers ruined their sleeping bag.