As she shoved textbooks into her messenger bag before school on Tuesday morning, Em’s hand fell on a square of flat plastic—the CD Crow had given her a few days ago, the same day Gabby had had her allergic reaction. She flipped the case over in her hands, but it was unlabeled, so she just popped it into her computer as she finished her morning routine.
Em recognized the first chords of the song as the ones Crow had played for her in his pickup truck. The day it rained. The day they’d kissed. She pushed those thoughts from her mind and tried to focus on the music. That day, he’d said the song was still in the works, but it was clearly finished now. It was good. The sea-shanty chords soared over a twinkling piano in the background, and his words sounded clear and strong above it all. She paused from lacing up her boots and listened to the lyrics:
I don’t know what tomorrow brings, or when the dark will come Right now is all we’ve got—baby, let’s be young
She could picture him singing it, his dark eyes narrowing as he reached for the higher notes, his hair falling in his eyes as he lowered his head to reach the gravelly tones. The vision was quickly eclipsed by thoughts of JD. The way he moved his hands when he got really excited about something; the way his forehead wrinkled when he was trying to figure something out; the way he always let her have the first piece of pie and control over the radio when they were driving. The way he looked at her like she was really there—no, like she was the only thing he could see.
Right now is all we’ve got. . . . The words leaped into her head and her heart, giving her a jolt of energy. She had the right to make mistakes, and the right to fix them.
? ? ?
Gabby returned to school that day. Her face was still red and raw, but she was in the clear, healthwise. She wore skinny jeans and wedge-heeled boots, a green scoop-neck top, and the sparkly scarf Em had gotten her for Christmas. It was an outfit that screamed, I’m fine! Still, their friends—and even near strangers—showered her with affection, care, offers to assist. She’d missed only one day of school, but it was as though she’d been away for weeks.
At lunch, sitting under the glaring winter light that came through the skylights in the Gazebo, Em watched as Gabby carefully dressed her Greek salad, picked out a wilted piece of lettuce, and popped an olive into her mouth. It was like nothing had changed.
But Gabby had almost died. They were sitting alone; everyone else was still buying their lunches or trickling in from class.
Gabby cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you. Again. We’ve barely had a moment alone since . . . this happened,” Gabby said, brushing her fingers lightly against her ruddy cheek.
“I know. . . . We kept getting interrupted by your adoring fans,” Em said with a gentle smile, referring to the steady stream of visitors and flower deliveries that had appeared at the hospital and then during Gabby’s afternoon of home convalescence the day before.
“That was so nice of everybody, wasn’t it?” Gabby shook her head in amazement. “But really, Em. Thank you. I know that you probably saved—you saved my life.” Gabby’s voice caught, and guilt swept over Em.
“Gabby, if I gotten there earlier—like I was supposed to—the reaction wouldn’t have been so advanced.” She hung her head, letting strands of her hair fall around her face. “I’m sorry that I was late, and that I didn’t get your texts. . . .”
“It’s okay, Em. We both know I’m lucky you got there at all.” She threw back her shoulders and addressed the next question to the whole table, which had begun to fill up as they’d been talking. Lauren was feeding Nick french fries. Jenna produced a square of dark chocolate and presented it to Gabby as a get-well gift. “So, where are we going to pregame the dance?”
Just like that, Em knew the conversation was over. Gabby was back on. It was always a given that Gabs would coordinate both the pre-and post-dance partying. She always had.
Lauren and Fiona exchanged a quick glance.
“Skylar had said something about hanging out with Jess Marshall and those girls?” Lauren sounded tentative, and she was blinking a lot. “But, whatever. Like, whatever you want to do, Gabs.”
Gabby gave her best newscaster smile and cocked her head. “Jess? Sure! I love Jess. She is such a sweetheart.”
“I call no DD,” Sean announced from his seat at the far end of the table. “I drove to homecoming.”
“Me too,” Lauren said. “You may remember that night, Fiona, as the one where you suggested going swimming even though it was mid-October?”