I thought about it for a moment. Then, I deleted McDonald’s and typed in Plymouth Diner. It was only fitting that the place we’d meet for the first time would be the restaurant I thought of as belonging to me, my brothers, and Dad, the place we went for Saturday-morning pancakes. I hadn’t been back there since the accident.
I sent the e-mail to Cody, Mindy, and Logan. Then I sent a different e-mail to Kelsi, telling her the plan.
After feeling so helpless at home, it felt good to finally be in control of something that had a real chance of helping people.
? ? ?
By Sunday night, there was still no word from any of the people I’d e-mailed. So I decided to call them.
“Hey,” Cody said gruffly after his little sister handed the phone off to him.
“Hi, Cody. It’s Lacey Mann. Did you get my e-mail?”
“Yeah.”
“So? What do you think?” I asked. Cody and I didn’t have classes together this year because I was in honors courses and he was in regular, but we’d gone to the same elementary school and junior high, and we knew each other well, even if we hadn’t hung out in ages.
“I think it sounds kind of dumb,” he said. “You want to get together just because we have dead parents? I mean, get over it, Lacey.”
I took a deep breath. “I am over it, Cody. This is about Kelsi.”
“So? What does that have to do with me?”
“Look,” I said. “Let’s just try this. Once. And if it feels stupid, you don’t have to come again. But I just think it will be good for Kelsi to be around us now. Remember how weird it feels to have everyone treating you like you’re some kind of alien?”
I could hear him breathing. “Yeah,” he said in a low voice.
“I just think it would help if we could show her that there are people who know how she feels.”
“So, what, are we supposed to talk about grief and stuff?” he asked. “I already had enough of that crap with the military psychologist my mom made us go to. It was stupid.”
“No,” I said. “No grief talk. Unless someone wants to.”
There was another long silence. In the background, I could hear a television.
“Fine,” Cody said finally. “But if it’s stupid, I’m leaving.”
“Okay,” I agreed. We hung up, and as I placed the phone back in the receiver, I felt a little bubble of hope float up inside me.
I didn’t know Mindy’s number, so I called Kelsi next, and after a brief conversation about school stuff, I asked her if she was planning to come Tuesday.
“I guess so,” she said. “Being in my house is depressing.”
“I know the feeling,” I said.
“My dad just cries all the time,” she said. “Does your mom do that too?” I hesitated. “No.”
“I wish I could forget about it,” Kelsi murmured.
“Yeah, me too,” I said. Silence crackled over the line. “So how are you doing?” I asked. “I mean, really? Are you okay?”
“I guess,” she said. “It’s hard.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
“So I’ll see you at school?” she said.
I agreed, and we said our goodbyes. I mentally ticked Cody and Kelsi off my list. Two down. One to go.
A moment later, I was knocking on the door to Logan’s bedroom.
“What?” His voice was muffled.
“I need to talk to you,” I shouted.
“About what?”
“Can you just let me in?” I asked.
I heard a rustling, and then Logan pulled open the door, looking irritated. His room was dark, save for the light emanating from the monitor of his computer. An IM window was open. I figured he was probably talking to Sydney. Apparently, the world would end if they went more than a few hours without contact.
“What do you want?” Logan demanded, blocking the doorway.
“Can I come in?” I asked.
“Why? To snoop?” He didn’t move.
“I just want to talk to you about Tuesday.”
“Your stupid meeting thing?” Logan asked. I noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, which startled me. Had he been crying? The last time I’d seen his tears was Christmas morning, nearly ten months ago, when he’d come into the kitchen first thing in the morning and found me sitting alone there, staring at the wall, my hands wrapped around a mug of the Twinings Christmas tea that our dad used to drink all December. Logan had murmured, “He’s really gone, isn’t he?” before sinking into the chair across from me and starting to sob. He had cried, while I sat there, feeling uncomfortable, wondering why my own tears wouldn’t come. From that day on, he had avoided looking me in the eye.
“It’s not stupid,” I said.
“Whatever,” Logan muttered. “I don’t see why we have to hang out with some girl I don’t even know.”
“Because it’ll help her. So what’s a couple of hours one afternoon if it makes her feel better?”
“Why do you have to save everyone, Lacey?” Logan asked. He raked his hand through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t get you.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“Yeah, well, you can do it without me,” he said. “Some of us have better things to do.” He slammed the door without another word.
chapter 11