Year of Mistaken Discoveries (6 page)

I glanced around, but Brody must have left after the service. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he and I were friends, but I wanted to talk to someone else who had known her. I wanted to ask him if he’d noticed that she was acting unusual that night. Maybe if he had, we could split the guilt; I wasn’t sure I could carry it all on my own.

The idea of eating something made me nauseated, but I was thirsty. I went to the front of the hall and took a cup of punch. It was super sweet. I could feel the sugar molecules knitting furry little sweaters for each of my teeth.

Shannon and Lydia made a beeline for me through the crowd.

“How are you?” Lydia asked, with her eyes scrunched up in concern.

“Did your mom tell you I stopped by?” Shannon reached out and touched my arm.

“The whole thing is horrible. I can’t even believe it.” Lydia had pulled her hair back into a tight bun with not a single hair out of place. She looked like her mother.

“Hey, listen, I talked to the yearbook staff.” Shannon was one of the editors in addition to her other extracurricular activities. “We’re going to do a two-page spread on Nora in the senior section.”

Our conversation didn’t seem to require my input at all. I sipped the sticky, sweet punch and faked an interest I didn’t feel in layout ideas.

A group of sophomore girls approached slowly. “We came to say we’re sorry about what happened,” the tallest one said to me.

“Thanks,” Shannon replied.

“We’re still in shock,” Lydia added. Her eyes welled up with tears.

I stared at Lydia. I couldn’t remember her and Nora ever having more than a two-minute conversation with each other. The way Lydia was acting, they had been besties for years. I wanted to point this out, but it didn’t really matter. I wasn’t in any position to slam anyone else for not being a good friend to Nora.

“She had so much ahead of her, so many opportunities.” Shannon sighed. “I’ve been reading up on teen suicide. Did you know it’s the third leading cause of death in people in our age group? That’s just wrong.”

When had Shannon become a public service announcement?

“I e-mailed Mr. Bradshaw. I think the school should look at setting up some kind of peer counseling options.”

“You talked to the guidance counselor about this?” I asked. The idea of Shannon and Mr. Bradshaw cooking up some teen crisis hotline annoyed me for some reason. Part of it was I
hated Bradshaw. He was always trying to act hip and cool, as if he was one of our peers who just happened to work for the school administration. He used way too much hair product and cologne. Being near him gave me a headache. You could also tell he’d been a hugger, but someone had complained. In today’s day and age, being a creepy older guy who liked to hug teens was frowned upon. He’d stopped touching students, but you could tell he still wanted to. Instead what he did now was whenever he got close he would clap you firmly on the back. It was like a halfhearted Heimlich maneuver. He also had this nervous tic where he would pinch his lips together, like he was about to kiss you. It made him look a bit like a guppy. His nickname in the halls was Fishman.

“A lot of teens don’t feel they can talk to an adult. They want someone who can relate, another student who gets what they’re going through,” Shannon said.

I raised an eyebrow. Why anyone would feel more comfortable talking to another student was a mystery to me. Not to mention, I was quite sure that Nora wouldn’t have thought anyone in our class could relate to her. “Were you going to ask me about it?” There was an edge in my voice. Lydia and Shannon exchanged a glance. The sophomore girls were staring at me with wide eyes, like they expected me to flip the buffet table over and throw a fit.

“I didn’t think it would upset you.” Shannon’s voice was flat and calm. How someone might respond to a crazy person
who was yelling things at them on the street. “I wanted to do something that would help. You know, to keep this from happening to anyone else.”

I clenched my teeth to avoid saying anything I couldn’t take back. I didn’t need any more regrets. I looked across the room and saw Colton standing with a bunch of the guys from the football team.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled. I pushed through the crowd until I was at his side.

“Hey.” Colton shoved his hands in his pockets. I’d hoped he would toss his arm around my shoulder and anchor me, but he didn’t touch me. Maybe part of the “taking a break” rules included a no-contact clause. His friends started to move off.

“See you at Pete’s,” one of them said as he turned away.

My face tensed. “You guys are going to Pinball Pete’s? Now?” Pete’s was an arcade full of old video games, cheap pool tables, and foosball in a basement store near the Michigan State campus. Their pink-elephant sign was the only way you’d spot it. The poor lighting was probably to keep you from noticing how grungy the place was. The bathroom looked like you could catch hepatitis if you were in there for too long.

He shrugged. “The teachers told us to take the rest of the day off.”

I stared at him. “So you’re going to play games.” He just stared at me. “You don’t think that’s . . .” I searched for the right word. Disrespectful, rude, disgusting. “Wrong?”

“We’re here now.” Colton looked around the room. “How long are we supposed to stay at this thing?”

“It’s not about putting in your time, it’s about the fact that it’s the day of Nora’s funeral. Funerals and foosball don’t go together.” I was trying to whisper, but my voice must have been louder than I imagined, because a few people at the tables near us were turning around.

“What am I supposed to do, just hang out all day being sad?”

“She’s dead. Is it really asking too much that you take a single day to, I don’t know, acknowledge that she lived?” I wanted to throw my glass of punch in his face.

“Why are you on my case? I didn’t even know her that well. I came here because I thought you would want me to be here and now you jump all over me.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for your great sacrifice? You really put yourself out.” My chest was turning a mottled red, and my skin felt hot and itchy. Suddenly it hit me: He and his friends had only come because it gave them an excuse to skip class. Heck, that’s probably why most people were here.

“What do you want from me?” Colton and I were nearly nose-to-nose.

I opened my mouth to yell something back, but nothing came out. I was mad at Shannon and Lydia for acting like they cared, and mad at Colton for not acting like he cared enough. My breath started to come faster. My mouth kept opening and
closing. Suddenly my throat seized, and I started crying for the first time since I’d heard the news.

Colton’s eyes went wide. “Hey, it’s okay.” He looked around nervously. He reached over to pat my back, but his hand just hovered a few inches away from me as if he was afraid to touch me.

I started crying harder. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t remotely okay at all. Colton took a step back, and I reached for him to grab hold of his shirt. I wanted to explain how everything was wrong. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible that Nora was dead.

Lydia and Shannon came running over and surrounded me. They made soft murmuring comments and rubbed my shoulders. I tried to pull myself together, but I couldn’t stop crying. More and more people were turning around to see what was happening. I could feel them staring at me. I wanted to explain that what I felt was real; it wasn’t a show. I wanted to explain that I’d never been so sorry about anything in my entire life as I was about this.

My mom appeared at my side and took my arm. “Okay, honey, come on.”

“She just started crying,” Colton said as he backed farther away from me. He seemed grateful to pass me over to my mom. “I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s time for us to head home,” Mom said. I went limp, the tears cutting off. If it had been possible, I would have crawled into her arms and let her carry me out of there.

“We’re all so upset about what happened to Nora,” Lydia said to my mom. “If there’s anything we can do to help . . .” Everyone grew silent. It seemed clear even to me that I needed far more help than they could give me.

My dad brought over my mom’s purse. “I’ll go get the car and pull it around,” he said to my mom. He squeezed my elbow before leaving.

Mom pulled a crumpled Kleenex out of her bag and blotted my face.

“I’m so tired,” I said softly.

“We’re going to take you home.”

I let her lead me to the door. People around us were quiet as we left. I guess my little breakdown was the entertainment for the funeral. Not as much fun as a band, but certainly more memorable.

We walked outside and I stopped short. The sun had come out while we had been inside. The light bounced off the wet leaves lying in the street, and the puddles in the parking lot gave off a glare. Despite the sunshine it was cold. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the air felt razor sharp when I breathed in. It was painfully beautiful.

chapter eight

T
he next morning was a real eye-opener. Teen magazines are always offering advice on how to be popular. They suggest getting involved in sports, or spending extra time on your hair or makeup. There was always the advice that the most important thing was to be confident and friendly. Smile. Express interest in others.

Bullshit.

Apparently the secret to popularity here at Northside High is to kill yourself. Nora had always been on the fringes. She wasn’t unpopular. Her status was hard to explain. No one shoved her into her locker or pushed her down in gym. If anything, other people were a little bit scared of her. They tended to give her a wide berth when she’d been around. However, now that she was dead, she’d reached near demigod status. Her
locker had become a shrine, with people leaving fake flowers stuck into the vent. Someone had scrawled a quote about memories living forever in Sharpie marker on the door. There was even a tacky baby-blue stuffed bear left leaning against the locker. Her Facebook page, which she almost never bothered to update, was now full of comments about how she’d be missed and cheesy quotes from various songs that she’d never liked. Nora’s name seemed to be on everyone’s lips.

People were still buzzing about what had happened. They were like emotional vampires, sucking up the drama. Who hasn’t stood on a balcony and realized that there was nothing to stop them from jumping over? Or been driving and suddenly realized that they could slam on the gas and head straight into traffic? Not that you wanted to die, but the realization that you could was somehow intoxicating. Dangerous. Nora had taken the plunge, and everyone was fascinated. Nora had been telling elaborate stories for years. If she’d been doing it for attention, she sure had it now. Too bad she wasn’t around to see it.

Shannon and Lydia had stayed glued to my side my first day back as if I required security to keep away hordes of paparazzi. I wanted to believe that they were doing this because they were my friends, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that they liked being close to the center of the action.

Colton had made it a point to stop by my locker first thing in the morning and bring me a coffee from Starbucks. I could
hear girls in the hallway sigh and buzz over the fact that we might be getting back together.

“Thanks.” I took a sip of the latte. He’d forgotten to add sugar.

“Things with you okay?” Colton asked.

“I’m doing better.” I smiled so he would relax and realize I wasn’t about to fly apart like I had at the funeral. “You want to get out of here for lunch? We could do Maloney’s, my treat.” I figured I owed him one.

Colton shifted, staring down at his feet. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. You know, since we’re on a break.”

Lydia was looking at me from across the hall with pain in her eyes. She felt sorry for me. It was as obvious as if she’d taken out a full-page ad in the school paper. I flushed.

“Fine. No big deal.” Now even Colton was looking at me with sympathy, which annoyed me. I wouldn’t have said anything to him if he hadn’t approached me first. It wasn’t like there were guidelines about how we were supposed to act around each other. “I just thought I’d pay you back for the coffee,” I explained.

“I really care about you, but I still think we need some space,” Colton said. “I brought you the coffee because I knew today would be hard.”

I wanted to tell him not to do me any favors, but I wasn’t interested in having a fight in the middle of the hallway. “Well, thanks again.” What did he want me to say? It was coffee.
It wasn’t like he gave me his liver or something. He shuffled off down the hall with his friends.

“He’ll come around,” Lydia said, rushing to my side. “I talked to Karl and he said Colton still talks about you all the time. He’s just being a guy.” She shook her head as if the mysteries of the male creature were too much to fathom.

“It’s fine. We both thought it was a good idea to take a break.”

“Sure, of course,” Shannon said, sounding like she didn’t believe me at all.

“I really like Colton, but he’s never been the love of my life.” I didn’t care that we were on a break. What bothered me was trying to figure out how we were supposed to act with each other now. We were still part of the same crowd, and neither of us was likely to leave. Even though it had been mutual, for some reason he seemed to be getting the role of the breaker-upper, leaving me to the sad, tragic dumpee. I stared back at both of them. “You guys, I’m fine.”

Lydia patted my back softly. “Of course you are. You’re more than fine.”

“I have to go,” I said. I had to see our cheer coach. I hadn’t been looking forward to talking to her, but now I was glad to have an excuse to leave.

• • •

It’s a little-known fact that the correct term is “pom
pon
,” not “pom-pom.” I know these details because Coach Kerr takes
running our cheer squad as seriously as operating a nuclear power plant. If she catches you calling it a pom-pom, or in some way not taking our glorious sport with the level of gravity it deserves, she makes the entire squad run extra laps. This doesn’t exactly make you popular with everyone.