I stood in front of the open door, saw him already at his desk, his hair falling in front of his face as his hand gripped the pen tightly, drawing an intricate pattern on his wrist, like links of a chain interlocking.
Ryan usually arrived at class just as the bell rang, sliding into his seat in the back row just as the sound cut off, like he’d been practicing his entire high school career. I was usually in my seat before the two-minute warning.
Today, the situation was reversed. Because he was brave. And I was the coward. Right.
The bell for the start of class rang, and Ryan glanced up at the doorway as I stepped inside. I waved, slight smile, and Ryan did the same.
“Hey, Kelsey,” he said.
I sat at my desk. “Hi, Ryan.”
It was obvious from the other students who were all gazing up from their notebooks and twisting in their chairs that the story had circulated a few times, possibly even absorbed some exaggerations based on the fact that Alyssa kept staring at my legs, like she was surprised they were still functioning and attached to my body.
The teacher called for attention, and Ryan leaned back in his chair, pen twirling between his fingers. “Nice to see you alive and well, Ms. Thomas,” Mr. Graham said. “Certainly gave us all a scare.”
I sunk further into my seat, searching for an adequate response. Just happy to be alive, sir. I settled on a mumbled “Thanks.”
A school administrator gestured to Mr. Graham from the hall, and he excused himself. The room broke into hushed conversation, and I peered at Ryan from the corner of my eye. He was doing the same to me.
He resumed doodling on his wrist, his knee bouncing under his desk—and I wondered if he was as nervous as I was. I pictured his friends coming into the Lodge, the way he’d laugh along with them, agreeing to meet up later, saying goodbye with pats on the back, getting messages on his phone from girls like Holly—all of which should have made him confident. And he was, he must’ve been, to become a firefighter, to climb into my car. But I also remembered his voice, his words…Don’t be afraid.
I tried them out. Don’t be afraid, Kelsey.
I leaned across the aisle toward him. He raised an eyebrow, and then the corner of his mouth. “Congratulations,” I whispered.
His leg stopped bouncing. The pen paused over his arm. “For what?”
“The ceremony,” I said. “For the medal.” He went back to the pattern on his wrist, peered at me from the corner of his eye, like he wasn’t sure whether I was serious or not. “Tonight?” I added.
He shook his head, not making eye contact. “It’s stupid. I told them not to do it. I told them I didn’t want to,” he said.
“It’s not stupid,” I said. He had crawled into a car dangling over a cliff. It was brave. He deserved the medal.
Mr. Graham strode back to the front of the room. “Books away! Pop quiz time.” He rubbed his hands together.
A collective groan rose from the class, and someone mumbled, “You don’t have to look so excited about it.”
Mr. Graham paused at my desk as he passed out the papers. “Do you need an extension, Kelsey?”
“No,” I said. I should’ve probably been in a higher-level class than this—Mom had gotten me ahead with all the years of homeschooling—but then I’d have nothing to take next year, as a senior.
Ryan didn’t look at me for the rest of class, and he didn’t ask me to wait up for him as I quickly gathered my books at the end of the period. He didn’t say he’d see me later, and he didn’t send me any random texts throughout the rest of the day. It was like the Ryan on the phone was one that only existed when nobody else was watching.
I’d been so sure he’d gotten to class early just for the chance to talk to me. I thought the phone conversation meant something. I thought we’d become friends, somehow. I thought I just had to be brave.
—
“I’m not a chauffeur service.” Cole was arguing with his mother on the phone as we stood beside his car in the parking lot. He was supposed to drop me off and then go back for Emma after soccer practice. I stood outside the passenger door, unsure whether I should get in or wait for some sign from him.
I saw Ryan striding across the lot with AJ and Leo, and he slowed when he saw me.
“Let’s go,” Cole said, pulling my attention.
We drove in silence, which I thought was probably better than the alternative.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said when we pulled into my driveway.
He leaned forward, taking in the gates, the house, and he let out a sigh. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked.
“I’ll be here,” I said as I exited the car.
“Hey, Kelsey?” he called after me through a lowered window.
I paused in front of the iron bars.
“For the record, I am glad you’re okay.” And then he drove away.
I saw Mom’s shadow at the window, curtains pulled aside, then falling back into place, as I pressed my thumb to the security screen at the gate. She’d already unlocked the door as I was walking up the front steps. She stood back from the entrance, watching Cole drive away, then shut and locked the door behind me. Except shut was kind of an understatement. The door slammed, and the pictures on the entrance table shook.
I took a step backward. The house smelled like green beans and syrup, and I needed both space and air.
“So,” I said, “I guess you saw.”
There was something almost unrecognizable about her, this person I knew better than anyone. Something about the way she was standing, the way she was looking at me. Her hands were tightened into fists. “What? Your picture, and my name in the paper with a quote from you? Yes, I saw.”
“I barely said anything, obviously,” I said. “I didn’t tell her your name. I mean, I told her no comment, but she just kept talking, and—”
She held up her hand. “What I’m upset about, Kelsey, is that you didn’t tell me. You talked to a reporter, even though you knew I wouldn’t want you to, and you thought I wouldn’t find out? The story was picked up by the state news, for Christ’s sake! It’s a human-interest story now, and it has our address!”
“No,” I said, “you don’t understand. She called and—”
Mom fixed her eyes, cold and hard, on my own. “She called? Where was I during this phone call? Were you trying to hide this from me?”
“God, Mom, you’re completely overreacting! You were in the office with Jan!”
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, but I could tell it wasn’t working. “You don’t just pick up the phone,” she said, like I’d done something akin to handing over the nuclear launch codes to an enemy state. “That’s what the answering machine is for.”
“I thought it was someone I knew,” I said. “Sorry!”
“Who? Did you think it was that boy?” I was starting to see my mother like someone from the outside—like she was being completely irrational, like this whole conversation was embarrassing and frustrating and not normal. Which was completely and totally true. “I raised you better than this. I raised you to think—”
“I thought it was Annika,” I said. “Because I wasn’t answering my cell.” I wanted to tell her to get a grip, to listen to herself, but her hand kept reaching for the scars on her back, and I remembered that she had limitations, that it had taken her seventeen years, and this was as far as she’d come.
Something impossible to shake, a memory she could not reach—proof that bad things did happen. People were taken, hidden, hurt. Danger was everywhere.
And here I was, standing before her, living proof.
The oven dinged, and she strode back to the kitchen and pulled out a pungent casserole. I couldn’t be in a room with this stench anymore. I couldn’t be in a room with her anymore.
“I have homework,” I said. But she reached for me with an oven-mitted hand, and I lingered near the sink.
“I feel like I’m…” She let the thought go, but I could tell, with the way she was still reaching for me, and the way I’d been moving back. Like I’m losing you.
Like I was slipping, falling…