“But the biggest reason, I guess, is that it’s dangerous,” he said. “Think about how many people in that house are going to drive home tonight. What if they get into an accident and get hurt or cause an accident that hurts someone else?”
I felt cold, the way I did whenever I thought of car accidents. Suddenly, I couldn’t fathom ever wanting to drink anything in my entire life, if it could lead to something like that.
“I’d never drink and drive,” Sam added.
“Me neither,” I agreed. “No way.”
I looked up at the sky. It was clear out tonight, with just a few wispy clouds drifting across the nearly full moon like pieces of gauzy silk suspended in space. I searched for the brightest star and recited the familiar words in my head: Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish, I wish tonight. Then, without even thinking about it, I silently wished that Sam Stone would kiss me.
Immediately, I regretted it. I didn’t necessarily believe in wishes coming true or anything like that, but what if they did? Shouldn’t I have wished for my dad to be safe in heaven? Or for my mom to stop crying in her room at night? Or for Tanner to come out of his shell? Or for Jennica’s mom to snap out of her weird teenager phase? What if I’d just wasted a wish? And why, of all the things I could wish for, would I wish for Sam to kiss me?
“So, I think I’m going to go,” Sam said after a minute. “My mom worries when I’m out too late.”
“My mom doesn’t worry about anything anymore,” I said before I could think about it.
Sam looked at me closely. “I bet she worries more than you realize.”
I wanted to tell him that he had no idea what it was like in my family, and he had no idea what my mom was thinking. But there was something in his eyes that stopped me from speaking.
“Are you okay getting home?” he asked.
I hesitated. “I’m actually spending the night at Jennica’s,” I said.
“She’s driving?”
I nodded.
“But she’s drinking,” Sam said. “I saw her.”
I shrugged. “I’ll figure it out,” I said. “Don’t worry.” But I was worried. I didn’t have my license, so I couldn’t get us home, and there was no way I was climbing in a car with someone who’d had a few beers. I figured we’d have to call Jennica’s mom, which I knew Jennica would argue with me about.
“How about I drive you home?” he asked. “You and Jennica and her boyfriend, I mean.”
“You don’t have to—” I started to say.
But he cut me off. “I’m not leaving you in a situation like that,” Sam said firmly. He stood and pulled me up. “Let’s go get her and tell her it’s time to leave.”
Sam didn’t let go of my hand as he led me into the party and upstairs to find Jennica and Brian. Ten minutes later, his fingers were still intertwined with mine as the four of us walked out to the street to pile into Sam’s Jeep. I realized I didn’t want to let go.
chapter 10
The next morning, back to thinking about the conversation I’d had with Kelsi, I Googled “grief counseling for teens” and “starting a group for people whose parents have died.” I read through all the entries, taking notes as I went, although there wasn’t much I didn’t know already. Most of the tips I found were pretty obvious, like letting everyone have a chance to talk and not pressuring anyone to open up.
Besides, I reminded myself, my goal wasn’t to start some kind of grief group. I intended to make sure it was casual and not at all like the stupid counseling sessions Mom made us go to with Dr. Schiff. I was sure we’d all had enough of well-intentioned adults who didn’t have a clue, who wanted to believe we were little kids they could fix with simple words from textbooks on grief.
I found a group in Atlanta called Kate’s Club that sounded a lot like what I wanted to do. Kate was a woman in her thirties whose mom had died when she was twelve, and now she ran a group for more than a hundred kids. According to the group’s Web site, they hung out together once a week, and once a month they did something fun, like go to a baseball game or to the aquarium. I imagined that one day I’d be like Kate. Lacey’s Club, I thought.
But I was getting ahead of myself again.
I started an e-mail.
Hi, guys. Lacey Mann here. As you probably heard, Kelsi Hamilton’s mom died last week, and Kelsi’s back in school. I’ve been trying to figure out how to help her feel better, and then I realized that all of us could pitch in to make things easier on her. It might even help us, too. I was thinking that we could get together once in a while to hang out. We don’t have to talk about anything if we don’t want to. It’s just a chance for us to feel like ourselves again and to hang out once in a while with people who get us. What do you think? Can you meet at the McDonald’s on Samoset Street on Tuesday after school?