I nodded, knowing quite well that my parents wouldn’t help Josh. They could barely enter my room, let alone go through my personal things. And from the looks of it, Josh had no intention of clearing out the remnants of my life either. He already had the textbooks stacked neatly back on the shelf and was smoothing out the crinkled photo on the door.
“I can help you,” I said to Josh, hoping he wouldn’t agree to my offer. I didn’t want to spend time with him. I didn’t want the constant reminder of who I once was, who I’d made the choice to never be again. What I wanted was for him to stop looking at me that way—with pain, anger, and hope rolled into one confused mess.
“I don’t need your help,” Josh said.
The anger I’d seen at the burial was back in place, and I sighed in relief. His anger I could deal with.
“Fine, if that’s the way you want it,” I said.
I turned to walk away, planning on leaving the discarded contents of my bag strewn across the hallway floor rather than spend one more second trapped in Josh’s gaze. But his next, broken words stopped me, the truth he spoke echoing through my mind.
“That’s not the way I want it. What I want is to see Ella again, but you can’t help with that, can you?”
I tamped down the urge to respond, my good hand clutching Alex’s so hard that I lost the feeling in my fingers. I couldn’t do this here, not now. Not with Josh. Not with everybody, including Alex, watching.
“No. I can’t,” I said, not bothering to turn around and look my best friend in the eyes as I confirmed his worst nightmare. “She’s gone, and I can’t change that.”
16
Alex was in my first period class. I didn’t know if I was relieved or irritated about that. He’d remind people not to stare and make sure nobody said anything to me. But that also meant I had to play along, continue to be Maddy when what I truly wanted was five minutes alone to clear my head and regroup.
Hoping to avoid as many people as possible, I went in through the back door. Didn’t work. Everybody’s eyes, including Mr. Peterson’s, swung in my direction.
Mr. Peterson smiled, the first genuine smile I’d seen this morning. “It’s good to see you, Madison.”
I managed a weak thank-you and let go of Alex’s hand so I could take a seat in the corner. Mr. Peterson wasn’t one of my teachers. He taught American Lit, not AP English like I was in, or even Honors English. This was general, run-of-the-mill American Lit.
The seat next to me was already taken, and I gave the kid occupying it credit. He didn’t raise his head when I sat down. He ignored me and kept studying the etchings on his desk. I didn’t know his name. I’d seen him wandering the halls and in the parking lot, but that was it.
“There’s a seat in the front row,” Alex said as he dropped his bag to the floor and waited for the kid to move.
The kid glanced up at Alex and then to me as if waiting for approval. “What’s your name?” I asked.
Alex looked curious as to why I suddenly cared who this kid was. I didn’t care so much as I was jealous. Nobody knew him. Nobody bothered with him. He was a lot like me before I decided to become Maddy.
“Ryan,” he said.
“It’s fine, Alex. I’m fine. Ryan can stay,” I said.
I didn’t hear what Alex mumbled under his breath as he walked away and took a seat in the front row next to Jenna. But to be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention. I was more interested in fading into the background like the boy sitting next to me.
I shuffled through my bag and pulled out a notebook labeled Lit. Save for a few versions of Alex’s name covering the first pages, it was completely empty, not a single note on any page. Grumbling, I looked over at Ryan’s desk. He didn’t have a pen out, never mind a notebook.
“This is American Lit, right?” I said, trying to confirm what I already knew.
Ryan raised his head and stared at me, no pity, no curiosity, absolutely nothing in his eyes. “Yeah, why?”