180 Seconds

I sit with more dogs than I can count, I smile more than I have in the past three weeks, and I am overcome with the feeling that I might do some good for all of these deserving animals. This process makes me understand Esben even more. Helping others can help me heal myself.

While Esben is posting the last photo, one of me with an outstandingly cute yellow Labrador—one who has not been adopted without any discernible reason—I lean against him. “That Lab? That dog is a sweetheart. I hate this. I hate that she’s been so alone. But I know that we’re going to find her a family because of this. She’s going to be loved, and she’ll feel that love, and she will forget her past. I know that.” I breathe him in. “I feel so much better. Thank you.”

“This was your deal, my sweets. This is all you.” He swings his arm over me and keeps me close.

“There. One day down,” I state with as much pride and courage as I can muster. “Now I just have to get through the rest of them.”

“We’ll do this every day if you want,” Esben promises. “For as long as you need to.”

We might have to. I cannot fathom how I will survive the days that lead to the call.

The call in which I’ll be told that Steffi has died.





CHAPTER 26




SOCIAL DESTRUCTION

By the second week in March, the weather begins to lift, and it’s a good way to kick off spring break. Simon and I were going to take a trip to Washington, DC, and do touristy stuff together, but there’s a massive airline strike involving most of the major airlines, and we lost our flights. Although I’m disappointed, I’m also exhausted from late nights of research and paper writing, so I don’t mind some downtime here at school. Simon wanted me to come home and stay with him, but I think he understands that I just want to lie around here and sleep for a week.

Esben and Kerry are driving home tomorrow, and I’m going to be in the minority staying on campus during break, but I’m actually looking forward to the quiet. This is a desire for healthy alone time, unlike it would have been last year, and I’m proud of my progress.

Esben has been furiously clicking away on his laptop, and I glance up from my collapsed spot on the bed to see what he’s doing. He’s leaning against the wall, with my legs over his, and by the stern face he’s making, I know he’s in a mood of sorts. I shut my eyes and take a few more minutes to recover from this week. Both of us have been stressed out, although I’m not sure exactly what’s been going on with him. He seemed to sail through the two big tests he had this week, yet something has been getting under his skin over the past month. Just traces here and there, but enough for me to notice. I’ve tried asking him, but he’s assured me up and down that nothing is wrong.

I’m not convinced.

Apparently, I’ve fallen asleep, because I’m jolted awake when Kerry simultaneously knocks and bursts through the door. “Hello, my darlings! What’s shakin’?”

It takes a minute for me to respond. “Hey, Kerry.” I rub my eyes and yawn. “You look happy.”

She gives a twirl. “I am. I’m all in love and swoony and feeling full of life and all that corny stuff.” She throws a sidelong peek at Esben, who has not looked up from his screen, and then raises her eyebrows at me. “I was hoping for some girl talk.”

“Sure,” I say with a stretch. “Give me a minute.”

“What’s up with grumpy there?” she asks.

It takes a few nudges to draw his attention away. “Yeah? What? Oh, hi, Kerry. Sorry.”

“Hiya, Baby Blue.” Kerry puts a hand on her hip. “Why so pissy?”

“It’s just . . . I didn’t understand how much crap you filtered out online.”

“What do you mean?” She sits in my desk chair and frowns.

His neck cracks as he rolls his head. “You haven’t been deleting comments and banning and blocking people the way you used to.”

“Oh.” Her face drops. “I didn’t realize. God, Esben, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I knew that you’ve been pulling back, and that’s fine. You’re . . . preoccupied or whatever with Jason. And I get it. It’s cool. I’m just getting up to speed on a lot of posts from the past few months, and . . . I’m seeing so much more now,” he says with little expression. “I didn’t realize the scale . . . the level of vitriol.” He shakes his head with an awful sense of understanding. “The absolute expanse of it. It’s too much. It’s really just too much.”

Kerry’s flush of exuberance is fading. “They’re just idiots, Esben.”

“You have to ignore them,” I say with less conviction than I’d like.

“How am I supposed to ignore this guy? I just went way back to Cassie’s party and the pictures. Some moron wrote . . .” He shakes his head and breathes before he reads this aloud. “He wrote, ‘Dude, that kid is weird looking. No wonder no one wanted to go, lol.’ And under the picture of that little schnauzer? How’s this for crummy? ‘That dog is fricking disgusting. Shoulda been shot years ago.’” He hits the wall behind him. “Tons of crap about our professor and his former friend. Way too much about Allison and me. Horrible, disgusting, offensive stuff that I will not read out loud. That I’ve already deleted. But why?” He gives us both a hopeless face. “Why? I don’t get it. I’ll never get it. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to understand these people.”

“Oh, hell.” Kerry runs her hands through her hair. “This is my fault. Look, it’s always been like this, but I’m usually on top of removing the crap. I’m really sorry. You shouldn’t have to see this kind of stuff.”

Esben raises his voice sharply. “No. I should. I should see every word. You’ve been protecting me from too much. I’ve been stupidly naive. I’ve seen plenty of BS online before this, but it’s getting to be too much. It’s way too much. I’ve hit my limit.” He scoffs and rubs his eyes. “God, I’m so dumb. All I want to see is the good, decent people who support and rally and shout out the awesome stuff. I’ve had blinders on. Not to mention, why can no one spell properly? Does nobody go to school, like, ever?”

Kerry is gentle in her response. “You just can’t give much credence to these jerks. They don’t get it. Their comments say a whole lot about them and not much else. You’ve got to look away. In order to do what you do, you have to be willing to accept that part of the population isn’t going to understand or respond the way you want. The way they should.”

“I don’t know.” He lets his laptop slide off his legs. “Maybe I don’t accept it. What’s the point, really? I can’t get anyone to change, can I? That’s probably what I thought. That I’d create change. How stupid does that sound? Look at Cassie. Jesus, who would pick on a kid with a comment like that? I can’t . . . I can’t begin to understand. And that’s the tip of the iceberg of this garbage. Who knows what else I’ve missed?”

“Esben.” Kerry looks uncomfortable. “It doesn’t matter. The voices of the supporters are louder.”