“You know. Just let her know that you’re there for her.”
“Oh. Of course,” I said right away. After all, Kelsi had to know that I’d understand in a way other people couldn’t. I wished I’d had someone like that when my dad died, instead of feeling like such an oddball. Sure, Cody Johnson’s dad had died in Iraq when we were all in eighth grade, so I suppose he could identify with me when my dad died. But he never said anything. In fact, I could swear he deliberately avoided me, just like so many other people who didn’t know how to act. I wished I could scream at people that I was the same person, that all they had to do was treat me normally. But apparently when you had a parent die, you became some sort of science experiment, to be poked and prodded and stared at.
“I’ve already spoken with your second-period teachers,” Mr. Miller said. “You and Kelsi are both good students, so they have no problem releasing you from class so you can have a chat. Maybe the two of you can take a walk or something.”
Well, that sounded supremely dorky. I suspected that Mr. Miller was imagining that when we came back from our stroll, Kelsi wouldn’t be upset anymore. I didn’t want to be the one to tell him that real life didn’t exactly work that way.
“Sure,” I said instead.
“Thank you, Lacey.” Mr. Miller sighed and looked very relieved, like he had just had a great weight lifted off his slumped shoulders.
I could feel the weight he’d just lifted settle inside my chest. “No problem.”
? ? ?
Back in class, I pretended I didn’t notice Jennica’s raised eyebrows. I also pretended I didn’t see Sam staring at me. Actually, pretty much everyone was looking at me. I’m sure they were all wondering what I’d done wrong to be called into the principal’s office.
I escaped Jennica’s questions after class by mumbling something about Logan being in trouble again. I knew I should have just told her the truth. But I figured that it wasn’t my place to be telling people Kelsi’s bad news. I knew that the rumor would be all over school in a few hours, but I didn’t want to be one of the people to spread it.
Thirty minutes later, I was headed back to Mr. Miller’s office with a hall pass, filled with a strange kind of trepidation. I wanted to help Kelsi, but I was almost paralyzed by the fear that I wouldn’t know what to say or do. Relax, Lacey, I told myself. You’re holding your family together. You can definitely figure out how to help this girl.
Kelsi was already sitting in Mr. Miller’s office when I got there. Her carrot-colored curls, which were usually cute and perky, were hanging limply, like she hadn’t thought to wash or comb her hair in days. She looked thin. She was wearing old, faded jeans and a Plymouth East marching band shirt that was too big for her. I stared for a second, realizing this was what I must have looked like in the weeks after the accident, like I didn’t care, didn’t even realize that people were noticing my disheveled appearance.
“Hey,” I said to Kelsi.
Kelsi looked up at me. “Hey,” she said. Her eyes looked tired, but not like she’d been crying. Maybe she’d run out of tears. It happened sometimes.
I glanced at Mr. Miller and sat down in the other chair facing his desk. Kelsi was staring at her lap now. She looked like she wanted to disappear. My heart ached a little with the familiarity of it all.
“I’m sorry,” I heard myself say after a minute. I hadn’t meant to say it. In fact, I hated it when people said that to me. It wasn’t like they were the ones who had killed my dad. What were they sorry for? But the words escaped before I could stop them.
Kelsi looked up. “Yeah,” she said. It seemed like she was having trouble focusing on me.
I glanced at Mr. Miller again. “So,” I said, “do you want to take a walk or something?”
The question sounded strange, and I expected Kelsi to react like I was crazy. But instead she just shrugged. “Whatever.” Without looking at me, she grabbed her bookbag. “Let’s go,” she said. I followed her out of the office, thinking for the first time that I might be in over my head.
? ? ?
Outside the school building, I had to jog to keep pace with Kelsi.
“Wait up,” I said. This probably wasn’t the bonding experience Mr. Miller had visualized, me speeding after Kelsi while she practically ran to escape me.
By the time we rounded the corner, I realized she was making a beeline for her car, a lime green VW Bug. She slid behind the wheel and slammed the door. I heard the engine turn on, and for half a second, as I stood in front of the car, I half expected her to lay on the gas pedal and run me over. Instead, she just sat there, staring at me. Finally, she rolled down her window. “Well? Are you getting in or what?”
I glanced around. “We could get in trouble,” I said. We could get detention for sitting inside our cars during the school day, and suspended for leaving school grounds.