I didn’t expect Chris to follow me out the door, but he did, along with Ethan and Oliver. We weren’t the first out but were damn well near it. The buildings were dark, empty, and the snow had already begun covering the tracks of those who came into the theatre. Taking the first step out here felt wrong, in a way, like we were staining a slate that nature wanted desperately to clean. I wandered back down to the lake and didn’t stop by the bench. I kept going, heading toward one of the forest trails that snaked off in a wide loop. No one would be out there, not with the snow growing thicker by the minute. I shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets and didn’t look back. I could hear the boys walking behind me, their feet shuffling in the snow, muted over the wind that kept rustling my coat like wings.
Maybe five minutes later, once the firs had closed around us and the forest was quiet in that all-consuming way, I stopped. I tilted my head back and stared at the gray seeping through the boughs, everything dulled green and silver.
Ethan knew what was up. He stepped up beside me and slid his hand into my pocket, wrapping his fingers around mine. Oliver was at his side.
Chris stepped beside us. I could tell from his hesitation he was confused, but I wasn’t going to explain it. Sometimes you just need to face the void.
Then, without preamble, I screamed. Ethan and Oliver followed suit. And a second later, so did Chris.
It wasn’t a scream of hatred or anger. It was primal. It was seeing death and staring at the gods and screaming your defiance, your fear, your shame. It was knowing you were worthless and worthy of a voice, important and smaller than the tiniest microbe on a grain of sand.
It was knowing this, all of this, and holding someone’s hand and praying you’d keep moving on.
We screamed for a while. Maybe a full minute. I was the one who broke off first, my yell exploding into giggles, laughter that hiccuped into tears. Ethan went quiet and sobbed beside me, not letting go of my hand. Chris and Oliver just fell silent.
For a while we stood there, saying nothing and trying to calm our breathing. I kept my eyes closed. It was easier to imagine it was all a dream that way. Easier to pretend that I’d wake up and it would be Saturday again—time for class and critiques and a night at T’Chai Nanni. No birds, no Brad, no death hanging from my shoulders like broken wings.
Gods, I needed to get out of here.
The click of a lighter brought me back to Earth. I opened my eyes and looked over. Chris had a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth, cupping the flame of his silver lighter against the wind.
“You smoke?” I asked. No one at Islington smoked. I mean, they did, but it wasn’t allowed on campus grounds so it wasn’t a common sight. Only, well, when in the woods.
“Just when it’s bad,” Chris muttered around the cigarette. It lit and he flicked the lighter closed, sliding it back in his pocket. He took a long, deep drag and then held out the cigarette.
“Sounds like a good motto,” I replied. I took the cigarette and let the burn fill my lungs. I hated the taste, but it was grounding. It rooted me down, stuck me to the soil. I handed it off to Ethan, who took it without comment.
“I don’t really know what to say right now,” Chris said, taking back the cigarette for another drag. He handed it to me, smoke curling from his lips like dragon’s breath. I hated to admit it, but there was a James Dean sort of sexiness about it. “I mean, this is all a hundred levels of fucked up. Mandy was my friend. We hung out in her lounge the other night. She would have told me if she wasn’t feeling well.”
I nodded and inhaled. The second drag felt like heaven, and I was all too aware that this was just touching his lips. It took a lot of control not to feel jealous over him hanging out with another girl. Which was stupid, since I spent most of my time hanging out with boys and what was I even talking about? I wasn’t dating him.
I looked up into the trees. There, among the branches, was a single crow. It fluffed its wings when we made eye contact. Go away, I hissed inside my head. It’s over. Now leave me alone.
The crow didn’t move.
“I don’t know about you guys,” I said, “but I don’t think I can stay here all day. This place is suffocating.”
“Agreed,” Ethan said. He looked to Chris and Oliver. “You guys want to come out with us?”
“I need to practice,” Oliver said. He looked down to his feet as he said it. I knew he wanted to stick with us, but he set a high bar for himself—if he slipped up, he wouldn’t let himself live it down.
“I’ll go,” Chris said. And yeah, I won’t lie, I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t join in. Then again, if there was ever a day to need a distraction from the thoughts writhing around in my head, it was today. Not that that excused me from the mounds of homework lingering in my room, tugging at my brain, and refusing to let me relax just yet. Work before pleasure, my mom always said. Little did she know what sort of complex that had given me. “But I need to get some stuff done first. Maybe lunchtime?”
“Sure,” Ethan said. “I should probably do some work as well. Shall we?”
Chris nodded and snubbed out the cigarette on the heel of his boot, then slid the butt in his pocket. Without further preamble, we headed back to campus.