Chapter Eighteen
KAT
I’M HUSTLING OVER TO THE cafeteria when I run right into Alex. He looks like he wants to murder somebody. Uh-oh. “Hey, Alex—” I say.
“I can’t talk right now, Kat,” he says, and steamrolls past me.
So much for no regrets.
In the cafeteria Reeve and Lillia are sitting at their table alone. She’s got one long-stemmed red rose on the table in front of her. I know Alex is gone, but where are the rest of their friends? There’s, like, three trays of uneaten food left behind. I plop down in the seat across from Lil, where there’s a chicken sandwich and fries.
I help myself to a fry and glance over at Reeve. I don’t particularly want to dish about Alex’s feelings in front of him. “Hey, Reeve, can you get me a drink?”
He makes a disgusted face as I eat another fry. “There are five open sodas in front of you. Why don’t you mooch off one of them?”
Ugh. I turn my chair away from him and lower my voice. “Did shit just go down?” Pointing to the single rose, I say, “Is that from Al?” I was expecting something bigger. Though maybe he did a rose and, like, sang one of his songs for her or something.
Lillia shakes her head and hands me the card that came with the rose.
“Oh.” I say. “Wait. I thought you and Reeve were keeping things on the down low?”
Reeve looks from me to Lillia. “Wait a minute—DeBrassio knows about us?” I give him a Cheshire cat smile. “I thought we were keeping this a secret from everyone!”
Defensively Lillia says, “First off, I only told Kat, and I swore her to secrecy. And what right do you have to be mad at that? I’m not the one who sent you a valentine in front of everyone!”
I dip a fry into some ketchup and nod my head in agreement. “She’s got a point.”
Reeve lets out a frustrated sigh. “I thought I could send you a rose and it would get lost in all the other ones you get in homeroom and you’d be the only one who knew. I definitely didn’t expect it to be delivered in the middle of lunch with everyone around.”
“No. I mean . . .” Lillia picks up the rose and puts it to her nose. “I know it was an accident. I just wish you hadn’t been such a jerk to Derek.”
“What else could I do? I’m not going to sit here and not say anything while Ash is a bitch to you.” Reeve glances at me before he says, “It’s none of their business anyway.”
“Ash was a bitch? What did that bobblehead say?”
Lillia’s chin trembles. “Ash said that Rennie’s body isn’t even cold. And then everyone just—they just got up and left.”
I lean forward and drag a fry through Lil’s ketchup. When our eyes meet, I can see how truly upset she is. Poor kid. I do feel bad for her, but, well . . . she had to have known that being with Reeve, in secret or not, came with a whole lotta baggage. I give her arm a squeeze. “They’ll come around,” I say, but I don’t know if that’s true. I just want to make her feel better.
“Kat’s right. They will. They’re just shocked,” Reeve says, and pushes some of Lillia’s hair behind her ear. “And now everyone knows. We don’t have to sneak around anymore. It’s honestly a relief.”
Lillia and I share a look. Almost everyone knows. And that is a relief. Thank God Mary isn’t here to see this.
Reeve pulls Lil’s chair close to him and kisses the top of her head. It makes me feel better that she’s smiling, even for a second. I know it makes Reeve feel better too. You can see it all over his face.
Chapter Nineteen
MARY
WHEN I OPEN MY EYES, I find myself inside the high school. Everyone’s dressed in pinks and reds and whites. They’re carrying roses, sharing kisses in the hallways.
Oh my gosh, it’s Valentine’s Day.
Valentine’s Day? How can that be? How can a whole month and a half have passed? I don’t think I understand what time feels like anymore. A long time or a short time, it all feels the same to me now.
I do feel something, though. Something magnetic. A pull. A current. A tide.
It takes me to the cafeteria.
And what I see eclipses any pain I’ve ever felt.
They’re together. Lillia, Kat, Reeve. As thick as thieves. Kat’s reaching for food, Reeve’s swatting her hands away, and Lillia is laughing at both of them.
I tear at my hair. Why? Why am I being tortured like this? Forced to watch Reeve move on with his life, watch him get whatever he wants. Watch him take my friends, erase me from the world. He doesn’t deserve to be happy. Not after what he did to me.
The edges of the cafeteria get white, and I begin to lose focus. Which is good, because I don’t want to see this. I was wrong. I was so wrong about everything. We aren’t friends. They don’t miss me; they don’t think about me. If they did, there’s no way in hell this would be happening.
The very last thing that made me feel like I was human, just a little bit human, is gone.
* * *
I don’t know how much time passes, where I go, what happens to me after. I come to on my bedroom floor to the sound of laughter. It’s coming from outside, but strangely, it sounds like their lips are right next to my ears.
Kids laugh in two different kinds of ways. There’s the joyous, silly kind that happens when you’re getting tickled by your mom or chased around the backyard by your dad.
And then there’s the mean, teasing kind. The cruel kind of laughter that isn’t funny at all.
That’s what I hear, and it brings me right back to my Montessori days.
I quickly push up off my stomach and walk to the window. There’s a group of kids down on the street below, right in front of my house. I bet they’re coming from the park up the road. Four of them are closing the gap on one boy who’s by himself. He’s walking backward as best he can, though he almost trips on the curb, because he doesn’t want to turn his back on them.
I close my eyes, and in a flash I’m down on the curb.
The one boy who’s by himself, the unease on his face makes my stomach hurt. He’s ten years old, maybe eleven. I can’t tell exactly because he’s tall for his age. Taller than the other kids who are taunting him, but that doesn’t matter. He’s trying not to look scared, but I know he is. I can feel his heart drumming. His hair is long and shaggy and a bit greasy, and he keeps flipping it out of his eyes by jerking his head. His jeans are dirty and they don’t fit him so great. His cheeks are dotted by a few ripe red pimples.