Under the Light - By Laura Whitcomb Page 0,62

him down, but at least he would’ve come for me and laid off of her.”

“Then he would’ve beaten you nearly to death,” Mr. Sawyer said, “wouldn’t he?”

Billy shrugged. “Sure.”

“And tell us, why would that have been a better outcome?”

Billy shook his head as if it was a silly question. “Come on. Would the world be better off with her or me in it? Not exactly rocket science.”

I didn’t look away or make a sound, but something changed. The air was as heavy as a river of mud, but I kept my eyes on his face and forced myself to keep breathing. I didn’t know what to do or what I would say to him. All I knew was that I loved him. Even with whatever sadness he carried and even if the boy I half remembered from a dream turned out to be real and walked into the room, I knew I would choose Billy.

The lawyers were conferring with Mr. Farmington. Billy sat looking away from me. But Mitch was frowning at me now. I felt like a spy and quietly slipped into the hall to wait. When they finally came out, Mitch had a hand on Billy’s shoulder.

“How did you find me?” Billy asked. He’d never used such an angry tone with me. I was startled into silence. Mitch pulled his brother down the hall.

“Not in front of the lawyers,” he told us.

I followed them into the parking lot, where Mitch got into his car and lit a cigarette and Billy stood near the trunk.

“Why did you have to show up and hear that?” he asked me. “You think I want you to know that stuff?” For a moment I thought he might cry, but he was still angry. “Now if you see me somewhere around town you’ll think of that.” He gestured back toward the building.

“Why is someone finding out about the sad things that happened to you such a bad thing?” I asked.

“I don’t want to mix up your clean life with my shitty life.” He said it as if I was an idiot for not already knowing that. “I’d be the reason you were unhappy.”

His reasoning confused me. “I’m sorry about what happened to your mom and dad—”

“I don’t want pity,” he interrupted.

Whatever I said, it was the wrong thing. “I don’t care if you’re in trouble with the police—you’re a good person.”

He leaned against the car, shook his head. “You’re saying that because you feel sorry for me—you feel guilty.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel.” My own anger surprised me, but I was right. “I’m sick of people telling me what I think and what I believe.”

He folded his arms the way my mother had when she didn’t want to talk about ghosts. “Am I the bad boy you can shock your parents with?”

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” I told him.

Billy covered his face with his hands like he was trying to figure out how to get through to me. When he looked at me again he asked, “Why would you like me?”

I took a breath and spoke carefully so he wouldn’t think I was throwing words around. “Because you defended me in front of your friends even though you got beat up for it,” I told him. “And you noticed me when I was sad and you wanted to know what I was thinking when I prayed with my eyes open.”

He sighed. “I can’t make time go back there. It’s too late. I grew up.”

“I like the way you turned out. I love you,” I said. “I choose you.”

He came at me, but I wouldn’t flinch. He didn’t push me or hit me. For a moment I thought he would kiss me, but instead he said, “I don’t choose you.”

Mitch started the car when Billy slammed the door. I moved out of the way as they backed up and drove off.

I wanted to fly out of my body, like I used to practice in the shower. But my soul was a stone stuck in my chest, cold and heavy.

I don’t know how long I stood in the parking lot. Another car honked at me, so I walked to the corner and took out the phone. My brain couldn’t decide which direction to walk to get to the library.

My mother answered with “What’s the matter?”

“I’m at Main and Fifth,” I told her.

“What?” she asked. “Why?”

All I could think to say was “I’m tired.”

My mother had to honk even after she pulled up in