it’s accidental, but then I notice how he watches her when she’s not looking, and I know he’s smitten. Poor guy.
Across the room, Anne directs traffic coming in the front door. The seven photos from the school memorial hang from the wall on the other side of the room. I see Jordan’s face, and for the first time, looking at it doesn’t make me want to scream.
When I turn back to the band, Zach has appeared on the other side of the stage. He’s staring at me like he’s seen a ghost. I’m about to wave, to go over there and say something—anything—but before I can, Conor grabs the microphone.
“Thank you, everybody, for coming out tonight. It means a lot to so many people that you’re here. I think Anne wants to say a couple words?”
Anne walks up and whispers into Conor’s ear for a second. He nods and she steps back off the stage.
Conor puts his lips to the microphone. “Okay. No speeches tonight. She just asks that you guys remember to meet out back after the show. Cool. Thanks.”
He turns to the band, now poised and ready behind their instruments, and nods.
As the first note hits, Lucy catches my eye. I recognize the song immediately: “Wait” by the band M83. It was Jordan’s favorite song before he died. He would play it on repeat in his room, over and over, until I swear I heard it in my dreams.
I start to cry.
Lucy has a look of deep concentration on her face as she plays, and in the moonlight she’s so beautiful. So…Lucy.
For the first time in a year, I think that maybe, one day, I’ll be able to get up there and sing with her again. Lucy and my mom are right—it’s time. It’s time for me to start living again—time for me to do something to remember Jordan. He always protected me; he was always there for me, even when I was pushing him away, and now it’s my turn to protect his memory, to do something to honor him in a real, significant way.
* * *
—
After the band finishes playing, everyone shuffles out into the backyard. I try to find Zach in the melee but don’t see him anywhere.
I wander out, following the stream of people, and find myself on the back patio, face to face with Miles. He sees me and stops, all nervous, like he doesn’t know what to expect out of my mouth, like I’m this loose cannon he’s afraid of. I can’t really blame him.
“Hey.” I speak first.
He nods at me, still silent, hands shoved deep into his pockets, eyes on the ground, avoiding my gaze.
I take a shuddery breath. “I’m sorry.”
He glances up, surprised.
God, this sucks. Being a human. Expressing things other than the anger that has been eating me from the inside for so long. I force myself to speak again. “I’ve been awful to you.” I shake my head. “It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t your fault.” I take a deep breath. Say the words that so many people have been saying to me for so long. The words I’m finally beginning to think could actually be true.
“It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his,” I say.
Miles is silent for a beat. The chatter of our classmates envelops us, and for a heartbeat it feels like we’re standing in a space apart from everyone else, like we’re back at the beginning, before everything ate away at us and turned us into monsters. We’re not the same people we used to be; no one here is. We’ll never be those people again, but I think maybe, just maybe, there’s hope that some of us will become better people than we were before.
Finally, he speaks. “Thank you.” He looks like he wants to say more, but someone calls his name from across the yard, and the moment passes. Before he walks away, he glances over at me. “You okay?”
I bite my lip. Nod. For the first time in forever, I might not be lying.