to think whoever did it stopped out of respect for the fact that Bayview High is mourning Brandon, but it’s more likely they just realized they’d lost everyone’s attention.
Every once in a while I still wonder who was behind it all, and whether they had a personal grudge against Phoebe, Knox, and me. But I guess that doesn’t matter. My real problem is that I haven’t figured out how to make things up to Knox. Now that I’ve managed to alienate both him and Luis, my social circle has shrunk once again to Bronwyn’s friends.
Well, and Phoebe. At least she’s still speaking to me.
Cooper throws one of his infamous sliders, and the UCLA batter just stands there looking confused while it’s called a strike. “You might as well sit down right now, young man,” Cooper’s grandmother calls. “You’re already out.”
My mood lifts a little as I lean toward Kris. “Nonny heckling batters might be my favorite thing ever.”
He smiles. “Same. Never gets old.”
“Do you think Cooper will go to the majors next year?” I ask.
“Not sure.” Kris looks extra-cute in a green polo that brings out his eyes, his dark hair full of golden glints from sitting in so many baseball stadiums. “He’s really torn. He loves being at school, and the team has been great. Not just about baseball, but—everything.” Kris gestures wryly to himself. “The majors, on the other hand, still aren’t particularly welcoming to gay players. It’d be a tough transition, especially with all the added pressure. But the reality is, his game won’t advance the way it needs to if he stays at the college level much longer.”
I watch Cooper on the mound, disconcerted by how impossible it is to recognize him from this distance. With his hat pulled low over his face, he could be anyone. “How do you make that choice?” I ask, almost to myself. “Between what you need and what you want?” I feel like my sister’s going through her own version of that.
Kris’s eyes are on Cooper, too. “You hope they become the same thing, I guess.”
“What if they don’t?”
“I have no idea.” Kris sucks in a breath as the batter makes contact with Cooper’s next pitch, but it’s a harmless grounder that the shortstop fields easily. “The Padres keep checking in,” he adds. “They really want him, and they have a high draft position this year.”
“Would it be an easier decision if he could stay local? He’d still have to travel a ton, obviously, but at least he’d be close to home.”
I don’t mean Bayview, exactly, and I think Kris knows that. He allows himself a small smile. “It might.”
I smile back through a tangle of conflicting emotions. On one hand, it feels strange to be here with dozens of other Bayview High students in such a cheerful atmosphere, two weeks after Brandon died. On the other, it’s a relief to be focused on something positive for a change. I’m happy for Kris and Cooper, because they deserve every good thing, and I’m excited about their future.
Not so much about mine, though.
I push up the sleeve of my long-sleeved T-shirt to trace the outline of another bruise. I feel like a peach left too long on a windowsill, right before it collapses on itself. Deceptively smooth on the outside, but slowly rotting at the core.
And then I feel it: moisture trickling through my nose again. Oh no. Not here.
I grab a tissue from my bag and press it against my face, rising to my feet at the same time. “Bathroom,” I say to Kris, stepping over him and Nonny with a murmured apology on my way to the aisle. The steps are clear, with nearly everyone in their seats and focused on Cooper, so I’m able to make my way to the women’s room quickly. I don’t look at the tissue until I’m in a stall with the door locked behind me.
Bright red.
I collapse onto the toilet seat and the tears come, silently but so hard that my shoulders shake. Despite my best efforts at pretending none of this is happening, it is, and I don’t know what to do. I feel isolated, hopeless, terrified, and just plain exhausted. Tears mix with blood as I swipe tissue after tissue over my face, until I finally rip at least three feet of toilet paper out of the dispenser and bury my head in the entire thing.
Both the tears and the nosebleed stop around the same time. I stay