Under the photo is a plaque that reads, Megan Elizabeth Reynolds. In our hearts forever.
I want to claw the stupid plaque with its stupid message down with my bare hands. I would too, if it weren’t screwed into the cinder block. In our hearts forever. On this wall forever.
They think they knew her. They think they’ll miss her. They think they’re mourning her.
They know nothing.
I see Alan at lunch. He’s sitting with a few people I don’t recognize. When Meg was in school, I sat with her and Alan most days. But it was just us then. Whoever these other friends of Alan’s are, they must be new.
I carry my tray over. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You see the picture?”
He nods. “I thought it was nice.”
“Nice. Yeah,” I say.
“You wanna sit?” He slides down, making room for me.
I look across the cafeteria toward where Dave and Shoshanna and Matt Boyd and a bunch of the other guys from the team are sitting. Dave’s shotgunning a Dr Pepper, and everyone’s cheering him on. He breaks away from the empty can, face red, and gives Shoshanna a sloppy, wet Dr Pepper kiss.
I look back at Alan and his quiet group of nerds. With the exception of Alan, everyone here is staring at me like I’ve got a dick growing out the side of my head.
I don’t know what the hell to do. I don’t feel like sitting with a bunch of people I don’t know, who I surely don’t have anything in common with, but I also don’t feel like I belong at that other table either. They’d take me back no question, but that’s not the problem. It would require a massive effort on my part to try to blend in. I’m so tired. I don’t care about arm wrestling tournaments or betting Dave a dollar that he wouldn’t eat his fries if they were smothered in a mayo, Tabasco, pickle juice, and A.1. concoction.
But I’m not gonna sit by myself either.
“I think I’ll go sit with them,” I tell Alan, nodding over to the soccer table. At least I know them. “See you later?”
Alan nods. “You bringing Hope by after school?”
“I have to pick her up at day care. But then I’ll bring her to your house, yeah.”
“I can pick her up if you want,” Alan says, shrugging.
“Dude. Really?”
“Sure.”
“That would be fucking amazing. Then I wouldn’t be late to practice. I’ll text you the address of the place.”
“Cool.”
Oh shit, wait. “I’ll need to switch her car seat to your car somehow. Maybe I can do that now—give me your keys.”
“No need. I have a car seat in my car already.”
I blink. “You do?”
“My mom got it when Hope first started coming over. So we can go to the park and stuff.”
I shake my head, amazed. “I owe you one, Alan.”
“Ryden, you owe me about a billion.”
? ? ?
I’m in the locker room changing for practice when my phone rings. It’s Alan.
“They won’t let me take Hope home,” he says when I pick up. “Something about me not being on an approved list.”
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. “Put the lady on, I’ll talk to her.”
The woman from the front desk comes on the line. “This is Sonya.”
“Yeah, hi, this is Ryden Brooks. Hope’s father?” A few of the guys in the locker room pause what they’re doing and look my way. I duck behind my open locker door and lower my voice.
“Yes, Mr. Brooks.”
“Listen, you can send Hope home with Alan Kang. He’s her babysitter. It’s fine.”
“Mr. Brooks, we can’t do that. You need to come in and add Mr. Kang to the approved pickup list and sign the form.”
“I will, tomorrow. But can you just send her home with him today? Just this once? I’m telling you it’s okay.”
“I understand, but I still can’t do that. We need to have it in writing, for legal reasons.”
I kick the row of lockers, and the clang reverberates throughout the room. “I was in this morning filling out all your paperwork and there was nothing about an approved pickup list.”
“You have to ask for that separately.”
I can’t deal with this woman. “Can my mother pick her up?”
I hear the clack of Sonya’s typing, and a second later, she comes back on the line. “Is your mother Deanna Brooks?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, she’s fine. She’s listed as an emergency contact.”
I exhale. “Thanks.” I hang up and call Mom. She doesn’t answer the house phone. Her music in her office is probably too loud. I try her cell. Four rings and then voice mail. I redial. Same. Fuck.
Five minutes and countless calls later, I still have no idea where my mother is.
The guys are all leaving the locker room and on their way to the field.
“You coming, Brooks?” Andrew, one of our fullbacks, asks, filling his water bottle at the fountain and screwing the lid back on.
“Yeah. In a minute,” I say. He gives me a wary look but shrugs and leaves.
I rest my forehead against the cool metal of the lockers and try to think. Hope can’t stay there until I’m done with practice. If I don’t get her before three, I’ll be charged extra. And I don’t have anything extra to give.