glare at the poster about the spring formal that’s taped to the wall behind his head. There’s a beat of silence, which I’m sure some people would describe as awkward, but I don’t care enough about this conversation to feel awkward about any part of it. Lee barely knew Jordan, except through me. I don’t even know what he’s talking about, saying they were friends.
Lee starts talking again. “Anyway. Yeah. With the memorial—we thought we shouldn’t forget, you know? We were like, this is important….You know, that day, when it happened, I was in the cafeteria. We were all so scared….” He keeps talking, but it sounds like a buzz in my ear, not like actual words.
“May, you okay? You look a little pale….” He reaches toward me, but I smack his hand away.
“DON’T!” It comes out much louder than I intend it to, and all of a sudden the kids passing us in the hallway are taking notice. Everyone is staring. I’m a freak, I’m a freak, I’m a freak. I reach down deep inside myself and slap tiny imaginary me in the face—tell her to get her shit together, take a huge breath.
“Sorry.” Plaster on another fake smile. Pull my body off the wall. “Sorry, just tired. Not used to waking up this early.”
Lee nods like Sure, May, but he lets it go, because who wants to push the subject with an obviously emotionally disturbed person? Not most people, and definitely not Lee Brothers, Master of Emotion and Propriety.
“Anyway, good to see you, May.” He’s backing away as he talks, like he can’t get away from me fast enough. “I gotta run….Good to see you.” He already said that, but whatever.
I wave.
At his back.
* * *
—
Fourth-period drama, and Ms. Kowalski’s hair whips around like it’s powered by an invisible tornado. You have to give it to her: she truly does not give a fuck. I can respect that.
Today she starts class late because a couple drama freaks have been talking her ear off in the front of the room—a bizarrely animated conversation full of dramatic gestures and mock fainting.
Zach slips in late again, halfway through her roll call, and my heart leaps at the sight of him. He looks surprised that class hasn’t started yet, since when he got here last time Ms. Kowalski was already teaching. He’s wearing headphones around his neck, and I make a mental note to find him after class and casually ask him what he’s listening to.
“Hi there!” As Kowalski greets him, the glasses she has perched on her head slide down her forehead and land on her nose. “Oh, my glasses! I’ve been searching for them for hours.” She chuckles to herself and then turns back to Zach. “Sorry. I don’t think I got your name last class?”
Zach looks super annoyed that she isn’t just ignoring him like last time he came in late. I try to catch his eye to commiserate, because I agree—this is drama class, who cares if you attend at all?—but he holds his gaze steady on the front of the room.
He mumbles something under his breath.
“Please speak up! Drama is all about learning to project your voice!” Kowalski booms. She has no issues with projection.
“Zach.” He’s still mumbling, but this time he puts a little more energy behind his voice. He still hasn’t acknowledged me. Probably mortified to be put on the spot.
“Zach.” She scans the class roster. “Ah. Gotcha! First time in a couple years that you’re the only Zach in my class!” She smiles. “Zach Teller, I presume?”
My heart stops beating as he opens his mouth to answer. It opens and closes with no sound.
Teller.
Now he looks over at me.
And I can’t look away.
His last name is Teller.
There’s no way this is a coincidence. All the lightness that crawled into my being when he entered the room leaks out, replaced by nothing.
This goddamn teacher just won’t leave me alone. I can’t bring myself to look over at May.