I nodded. There was still an hour before the assembly, and sitting inside seemed like a terrible idea. We stood and left like a funeral procession.
Islington was a nature lover’s paradise. You almost had to enjoy nature when you studied here—there wasn’t anything else. We didn’t walk any of the short trails along the lakeside, though. No time, not with the looming assembly. Instead, we sat on one of the benches by the shore and stared out at the frozen lake. Fishermen’s huts dotted the snowy ice, and a line of fir trees on the horizon marked the shore. I’d sat out here so many nights, daydreaming about what went on in those houses: people having dinner or watching TV or fighting. People not worrying about art or college or trying to make their mark on the world. In my imagination, they all had simple, happy lives. Lives my own convoluted mess could never imitate.
The things we didn’t talk about far outweighed the things we did. For the most part, we sat in silence, watching a few figures roam the lake and the clouds churn above. Ethan asked Elisa about her play. Elisa asked Oliver about his concert.
We didn’t mention Mandy. We didn’t wonder aloud why she’d done it or what would happen next. We didn’t need to. Those questions perched on our shoulders, heavy and laden with oily feathers and sharp beaks.
For my part, I could barely concentrate on their small talk. Ethan leaned against me on one side and Elisa rested her head on my other shoulder, but I hardly felt them. Their weight felt worlds away, unable to tether me to the Earth. I watched the crows circle above the snow, flecks of black dodging between a sky as pale and solemn as the ice spread out below.
Why are you back? I wanted to ask. I didn’t know if I was asking the birds or Brad, or if it even made any difference. Why are you following me?
Mandy had killed herself on her own volition. I had barely known her. This had nothing to do with me. So why did it feel like I was the center of all of this, like the crows above were circling around me like some cosmic nexus? I had nothing to do with this, I wanted to scream.
Only because you did nothing to stop it, Brad whispered back. A trait you’ve gotten quite good at. How long do you think you can run away, Kaira? How long until they find out what you did?
“It’s time,” Elisa said, snapping me from my reverie. Her voice seemed swallowed by the lake, her words small and insubstantial.
We slid off the bench and wandered to the black box theatre where the assembly was taking place. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why they chose it over the actual auditorium: This was more intimate, a conversation rather than a lecture.
We followed the line of students leaving their dorms up the asphalt drive that led to the performing arts complex. My entire body felt numb as we walked down the hall and into the cozy theatre which, as the name implied, was just one large black box with a row of risers and chairs on three sides. Ethan and Oliver and I sat near the back, while Elisa took a spot up front with Cassie. The place was filling fast.
I closed my eyes. I didn’t think I was empathic, but being in large crowds always drained me. It might be part of the reason I gravitated toward painting. Right now, I felt like I was suffocating in other people’s muck. I leaned my head against Ethan’s shoulder and nearly whimpered when he wrapped his arm around me.
“Is this seat reserved?”
I quirked my eye open.
Chris stood in the aisle, in a green plaid shirt and black jeans, looking down at me a little uncertainly.
“What? No,” I said. Ethan was staying resolutely silent.
Chris gave me a slight smile and sat down. If one could fidget while sitting, he did so. He stared straight ahead, hands clasped in his lap, his foot tapping nervously.
“How are you doing?” I asked. I knew Chris knew Mandy—everyone in the art department knew everyone. It’s just how things worked.
“I’m okay,” he said. Definitely a lie. “What about you?”
“Okay,” I replied. I could lie just as well as he could.
He nodded. For some reason, I wanted to apologize for the distance the night of the concert. Pushing people away right now seemed like a bad idea, even if it really was in his best self-interest. I didn’t say anything though. Words seemed too difficult.
The theatre filled up silently. Some students and staff were even standing along the walls, since this place wasn’t meant for four hundred bodies. If anyone cared about the cramped conditions, they didn’t voice it.
Ms. Kenton, our president, stepped into the middle of the stage and the room hushed in a moment. She wore a somber black suit, which just made the room seem even heavier. She was normally full of life and color, putting the rest of us and our faux-hippie attire to shame. Seeing her was like the final hammer.
Mandy was dead.