Which is why he’s here, in front of me, instead of…not.
Brian and I lock eyes for a second and I freeze. My stomach turns as he opens his mouth to say something and I just can’t…I can’t…I can’t…and before he can get out any words, I duck behind a group of people who are coming in through the door and bolt across the room to the other side and don’t look back.
I need Lucy. Now.
I dig through my bag and find my phone at the very bottom.
I text her furiously, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU with at least seventeen exclamation points and several I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS SHIT–type emojis. Then I slump against yet another wall to wait.
Across the room, I see Steve Irmen. His girlfriend, Britta, died that day. She played the clarinet.
Steve is laughing, his arm around another girl.
“Girl, what’re you doing hanging out by the trash cans?” Chim saves me from total loserdom/a complete emotional breakdown/freaking out and getting kicked out of school all over again. I offer a silent apology to the universe for almost slapping her earlier.
I shrug. There’s nothing much I can say back, because it probably does look like I’m chilling by the trash cans, of all places.
She shakes her head, a worried look in her eyes. “May. It’s going to be okay. I promise. C’mon.” She motions for me to follow her as she walks off into the depths of hell (aka the cafeteria). I sigh and follow her, because my other option is to scream and run out of school and keep running and never stop. And while that’s tempting, I’m pretty sure security would catch me before I got anywhere close to off campus—and oh, also, my parents would commit me or force me in to see McMillen. Which would be super not-fun (understatement of the century). If I do anything too fucked-up right off the bat, I’ll be back to how it was right after everything happened—going to her once or twice a week, sitting there silent, wasting my time and hers.
Chim leads me to a table filled with people I recognize from Carter, most of whom I have no desire to see—now or ever again. A girl with bright red hair waves at me from down at the end: Juliet Nichols’s best friend, Hannah. One of those people who would come up to me during the few weeks we were back in school before I got kicked out, all May, I’m having a rough day. I miss Jules so much. How are you doing? Do you want to come do yoga with me after school? And I’d want to scream in her face, scream and maybe never stop screaming, but instead I’d somehow force the word no out from between my lips. (Who knew that two letters could take a thousand years off your life?)
This isn’t our normal lunch crowd. In the past, it was always just me and Chim and Lucy and sometimes Jordan and Brian and his other best friend, Marcus, and then Miles and some of his soccer guys after we started dating. Sometimes a rando girl or guy—Lucy’s flavor of the week—but that was it. Hannah should be eating with Juliet at their table filled with other kids who played in the wind section of the band. Not with us. Not with me. Not without Juliet.
Not instead of Jordan.
I can’t do this. I start to turn and head back toward the cafeteria doors, but a hand grabs my arm. That hand belongs to—thanks be to Baby Jesus—Lucy. I start to let out a whimper of relief but manage to stop it before it leaves my mouth.
I’m pathetic enough as it is.
I slide into a seat next to Lucy and lay my head on her shoulder. I mumble into her shirt, “I saw Brian and he tried to talk to me, and I just couldn’t, and I ran away.” I let out a choked sob, and Lucy puts her hand on my arm.
“Oh, honey. Brian…You still haven’t talked to him?”
I shake my head without lifting it off her shoulder. She knows how many times he called me over the first few months after the shooting, trying to talk about Jordan, to remember him, but I sent him to voice mail every time.
She strokes my hair. “I’m sorry, May. I promise. It’s gonna be fine. Half the day down, only…”
“A trillion to go?”
She laughs. “Always so dramatic. More like a hundred twenty-five and a half days.”
“Your ability to do math like that in your head is just wrong.”
“It’s easy.”
I snort. “For you, maybe.”
“So, tonight—wanna hit the house?” Lucy’s smart. Talking about our extracurricular activity is a surefire way to make me feel better.
I nod, my face still pressed into her shoulder. No need to mention I was just there last night.
“But before that…” She pauses for a beat and I look up at her. She smiles. “Well…like I mentioned earlier, I’m actually going to audition for a new band.”
I squeeze her arm. “That’s awesome!” I force enthusiasm into my voice. It’s not an emotion that comes easy these days.
“Soooooooo…will you come with me? Please?” Lucy begs.
My stomach drops. I haven’t done anything remotely social in almost a year, and this sounds like it falls square into the events-that-take-place-outside-of-my-bedroom-and-with-strangers category. Which I am not into. At all.
But it’s Lucy, and Lucy has done everything for me these last eleven months and asked for almost nothing in return. So I nod.
“Of course I’ll go with you.” I glance at the other faces at the table and catch Chim’s eye. She’s down at the other end, flirting with some girl I vaguely recognize. She shoots me a quizzical look, and I shake my head and bury it in Lucy’s shoulder.
Lucy says, “Thank you. Look, I know it’s hard. Coming back to school. Seeing these people. It was for me, and for you…” She trails off. “I know you hate this, but I have to ask. How are you doing?” She sounds so concerned, and I feel the immediate need to pretend. Pretend, pretend, pretend it’s all okay—that’s what my parents taught me; that’s what I’ve always been good at.
But when I pick my head up to meet her eyes, I just want to cry.
Stop it.
I look down and study the top of the table, drum a rhythmless beat on my jeans, repeat the phrases that the therapist told me would help—calm calm, safe safe, blah blah kill me blah (well, that’s a modified version of them, at least).
“You hungry?” Lucy knows better than to push the mushy stuff, thank god. She holds a pretzel in front of my face. I take it and start nibbling.
I shrug. “Not hungry. Just want to find a corner and curl into a ball and disappear.”
She shakes her head. “Seriously, May. It’ll be over before you know it.”
“The day?”