we used to be friends
It wasn't that Veronica Mars had been avoiding people on purpose. For the most part, it had just happened that way. With so much on her mind, she might have stayed away from people altogether if it hadn't been for the trial. And that was just her luck, too. Even on a desert island, you get lessons on civic duty. At least she hadn't been foreman this time.
She spent the day wandering the island, still inspecting the area near the Compound in hopes of finding the clue that would bring it all together, returning for food and sleep, and to turn on her laptop just long enough to upload the latest photos to her hard drive. As long as she didn't think too hard about how her dad was, or what Duncan must be thinking, or the fact that she had been here more than a month, she could get by.
Veronica was in the process of Not Thinking About It Just Now, her camera slung around her neck. So far the island eluded her; the clues were vague and nothing fell into place. None of it made sense. What was clear was that she was hungry, and not in the mood for more mangos. Once inside the Compound, however, it was toss up: sleep or eat, sleep or eat? In these situations, a girl had to compromise, so she moved into the rec room to sit for a minute and consider the facts as they were at present.
And there they were. Spread out on the table for anyone to see, pictures of Homecoming 2003 or, rather, preparations for the dance, since they'd never made it to Neptune High, spending the night in a limo, coming home in the morning light to Celeste's angry face and Keith's relief. Here they were: Lilly, so alive in a picture; Duncan, looking human and present, with a vitality he would lose for months after his sister's death; Logan, laughing and happy; and Veronica herself, freshly pretty in a way that only naïve youth can be, with a Snow White smile, her hair long and golden, tumbling down behind her. The trickster goddess Neptune High had lost, the on-again, off-again boyfriend, the one who had provoked and tempted her, no matter how she hated him for it now. Lilly and Logan looking more in love than they had been (or than she had been). The playfulness that had evaporated, only recently returning.
It rushed back to her: the night in the limo, laughing with Logan, Lilly's mouth warm and startling and almost-expected against hers, holding hands with Duncan on the beach, helping Logan, long after Lilly had left them all, to make her memorial video, keeping her promise to Lilly in red satin and saltwater. You love me, don't you? Lilly cried silently, hair rippling out the window, and all Veronica could do was murmur "Yes."
She had promised never to forget her, and she hadn't. She couldn't. It was impossible to forget Lilly Kane. But all of a sudden, she was vital and real and alive again even after her death, Lilly had always been, still was, the most alive person Veronica Mars had ever known.
Curling up on the rec room couch, Veronica hugged the photos to her and hid her face against her knees.
