The Lucky Ones - Liz Lawson Page 0,31

I got here late to try to avoid this—the roll call, the reading of last names. I would have skipped class entirely, but what was I going to do? Skip for the rest of the year? Fail out? All in order to keep May from learning my last name? Conor keeps insisting that my name does not make me, no matter what everyone else seems to think. That’s easy for him to say. He’s not the one living with it.

“Zach Teller, I presume?” At the front of the room, Ms. Kowalski’s waiting for me to answer.

I nod. The air around me feels heavy, like molasses. I can barely get my head back up. “Yes. Zach.” I swallow. “Teller.”

And then I force myself to meet May’s eyes.

The fury in them makes me want to die. Something inside me recognizes how inevitable this moment was.

Now that she’s ruined my life, Ms. Kowalski moves on in her roll call.

I can’t breathe.

May’s face has turned red. She’s shaking.

The anger in her eyes is drilling a hole through my skin. I swear I can feel it burning me on my insides.

“Are you okay?” I mouth at her, even though I am more than certain that she wants nothing to do with me, now or ever again. She drops face-first on her desk and wraps her arms around her head. This is not good. Ms. Crazy-Hair at the front of the room blabbers on like nothing has happened.

I start to stand but hesitate. If I go over there, I might make things worse. Considering I’m the dickhead who caused this to happen.

I’m halfway out of my chair when Ms. Kowalski finally takes notice.

“May, are you okay?” May’s head is still buried in her arms.

Another student raises his hand. “Ms. Kowalski? Not to freak you out, but I don’t think she’s okay. It sounds like she’s panting.”

“Yeah,” a girl in front of me chimes in. “She did not look good before she wrapped herself up like that.” She pauses and then in a bad stage whisper says, “I mean, you know who she is…right?”

Ms. Kowalski does not look like she has the faintest idea who May is, or what she’s supposed to do. She glances around at us, head bobbing back and forth, panicked. “Can someone please take her to the nurse?”

Everyone just sits there, silent. Apparently, no one wants to get involved, which is so messed up, considering that just about every assembly we had last semester was about how we need to speak up if we see someone in pain, how we need to support each other. Way to go, fellow students.

I finally raise my hand.

“Great! Mack, was it?” She points to me.

“Zach.” I manage to resist the urge to scream.

“Right, right, Zach. Please escort her to the nurse’s office, okay?”

May’s head starts to shake back and forth, but her back is rising and falling way too fast, and I doubt she’ll be able to get a sentence out of her mouth to protest. I know I should leave her alone, but I want to protect her, even if the thing I’m trying to protect her from is me.

I stand and walk to her side. “Can you get up?”

Her brown hair shakes faster, back and forth across the desk. I reach out to try to help her up, but she jerks away. I pull my hand back as quickly as I can.

The teacher is at my side now. “May, Zach is going to take you to the nurse. It’s going to be okay. Can you get up on your own?”

May sucks in a shaky breath and then pushes back her chair and stands. Her head is down, hair curtaining her face. I reach out to help her, but she edges past me and heads for the door. I grab our bags and run to catch up.

Who does this guy think he is? This Teller. Trying to touch me. Trying to help me?

I can hear his footsteps

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