“Please. May. Wait.” David reaches toward the Plexiglas again, and it’s like I’m back there in that closet, back there in the dark, and then that light peeks through and I think it’s Jordan’s face, but it’s not, and it never will be again.
My world turns black.
* * *
—
Zach and some giant man help me into the car. I’m limp. Floppy.
We’re driving.
Zach tries to talk to me, but his words don’t sound like English. I can’t concentrate enough to hold on to any of them.
My stomach roils. “Fuck.” I’m going to be sick. “Pull over.”
“What?” Zach throws me a questioning glance and registers the panic on my face. “Shit. Okay, okay. I need to find a spot…somewhere safe.” He glances in the rearview mirror and then over at me. “Hold on.” He twists the wheel sharply to the right and we skid onto the shoulder of the freeway, going way too fast.
He slams to a stop on an embankment and I jump out of the car, put my head between my knees. I retch, but nothing comes out. I haven’t eaten since I spilled the contents of my stomach into the toilet on Friday night. Tears stream down my face.
All I want is to be the girl I was last year, even though I was a mess, even though I was a shallow idiot who never considered the consequences of my actions. I want to be in my room, annoyed at Jordan because he’s spent the last four hours practicing his guitar without stopping. I want to be at one of those stupid parties with Jordan by my side, him bored, but refusing to leave until I agree to go with him. I want to be at the dinner table, not able to get a word in edgewise because my parents only care about what he has to say.
The one person at that table who cared about what I said was Jordan. And now he’s gone. The person who I shared a womb with, who I grew into a human with, who only ever wanted to be my friend, is gone.
Forever.
Because of me.
Zach comes to where I’m bent over, hands on knees. He puts his hand on my heaving back, but it feels way, way too heavy. It feels like the weight of everything I’ve done in the past year, everyone I’ve harmed, so I shrug it off. A hurt look crosses his face, but I’m too far gone to care.
May won’t answer my calls. Since our visit to the jail, things have been tense. I waited in my car for what felt like hours before finally heading inside to find her. I had a feeling something terrible had happened.
When I got in there, they had her propped up like a scarecrow on a bench in the waiting area. She was really out of it. It was scary. A guard from the jail and I had to help her into the car because she couldn’t walk. The whole way home, I kept trying to get her to talk to me about what happened, but she barely spoke.
When I dropped her off at her home, she got out of the car without a word and went inside.
At first, I figured she just needed time to process everything, but it’s been three days of silence now. She wasn’t in drama yesterday; I don’t think she’s been at school. Today’s the anniversary of the shooting, and there are a bunch of events and a big assembly that she’s supposed to speak at along with some other kids from her old school.
I look for her all morning, and after fourth period I find myself walking down the hallway where all the Carter kids have their lockers. It’s eerily hushed, which makes sense, considering. There’s a table set up with a serious-looking woman sitting behind it and pamphlets strewn across the top. As I pass by, I see they’re all about grief. A couple people huddled in a corner, a guy and a girl. She’s crying, and he’s trying to comfort her. His arm is