“It doesn’t matter.” She sat on the edge of the bed, beside me. “It doesn’t—”
“That’s what they think about them!” Pointing at my computer, I struggled to get in deep, even breaths. I knew I needed to calm down. “This is how they’re going to be remembered, isn’t it?”
“No. That’s not how they’re going to be remembered.” Mom eased her arm around my shoulders. “Because that’s not how you’re going to remember them or how their families will remember them.”
But that wasn’t true, because the whole world would forever see them differently. That was all Megan, Cody, Phillip and Chris were now. Four lives reduced to blood-alcohol levels and bad choices. That was who they were now.
Not football stars.
Not undecided college majors.
Not a badass on the volleyball court.
Not a friend who’d drop everything and listen to you whine about a boy.
Not a guy who worried enough about his friend’s future to ask questions.
Not a guy who had the worst taste in shirts.
Not the kind of people who could always make you laugh no matter what.
Instead they were two times the legal limit of alcohol.
They were reckless and irresponsible.
They were people removing themselves from the gene pool.
They brought this onto themselves.
They were dumb kids who made dumb decisions who died.
They were a lesson to others.
That was all they were now.
Their entire lives were now a fucking after-school special on the dangers of drinking and driving. That was it.
And I hated it.
Because it was right.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I heard them downstairs, approximately thirty minutes after school got out. Their voices rose from the first floor. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I knew my mom wasn’t stopping them.
Panicked, I rose from the bed and glanced at the balcony doors. Could I make a run for it? That was almost laughable. My ribs would fall out of my body if I tried to run, and where was I going to go? I was stuck.
Abbi and Dary were coming.
Every muscle in my body tensed as their footsteps pounded up the stairs. Pain flared across my ribs, no longer dulled by the potent pain meds the hospital had administered. They’d given me a prescription, but I hadn’t taken it yet.
I dropped the binder full of homework and catch-up assignments, the pressure in my chest increasing.
Abbi was the first through the door. She stopped just inside my bedroom. Dary was behind her, but Abbi didn’t move for what felt like forever. Like she couldn’t come into my room, because the room represented everything that was no longer there. Just like I had felt.
Her curls were smoothed back into a high, tight bun. The dark skin under her eyes was puffy. Dary finally edged in around her, into the room, and she looked just as...shattered.
Her wild black hair was gelled back. The white-framed glasses did nothing to hide how swollen her eyes were. Normally Dary was wearing something bizarre. Today she just had on jeans and a loose V-neck shirt. No bright colors. No funky dresses or suspenders.
“You look like crap,” Abbi said finally, her voice hoarse.
My mouth was dry. “I feel...like crap.”
Dary’s face crumpled and she came forward to sit on my bed. Abbi plopped down in the chair as Dary leaned over my legs, planting her elbows in my bed and hiding her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook, and I wanted to say something, to offer comfort.
“I’m sorry.” Dary’s voice was muffled. “I told Abbi I would keep it together.”
“She did.” Abbi pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “She promised me.”
“I just... I’ve missed you.” She pushed her glasses up to her head and wiped under her eyes as she straightened. “And when your mom said you didn’t want visitors, I had to wait to see you—to make sure you’re okay.”
“And I’m trying not to be pissed off about that,” Abbi said, resting her chin on her knees. “But it sucked real bad having to get updates through Sebastian.”
“I’m sorry.” I leaned back, careful to not let the pillows slip too far down. “Sebastian kind of...forced his way in.”
“You wanted space. I’m trying to understand that, but...” Dary dragged the backs of her hands under her eyes. “It was just really hard.” There was a pause. “Everything has been really hard.”
“It has,” I admitted softly.
“How are you feeling?” Dary asked, dropping her hands as she sat up straight.
“Better. Sore.”
She slipped her glasses back on. “What about your chest? Your lungs? Is that what the inhaler is for?” She glanced toward where it sat next to the pile of textbooks.
I nodded. “Yeah. The doc thinks everything will heal fine, but I have to use the inhaler a couple of times a day for the next week or so.”
“What about the arm?” Abbi asked.
Lifting my left arm, I winced. “Should heal fine. Hopefully, I get the cast off in a couple of weeks.”
Abbi stared at my arm. “So...what’s going to happen with volleyball?”
“I don’t know.” I shifted against the pillows. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“When I broke my arm, I had that cast for, like, six weeks.” Dary frowned. “God, I remember getting poison ivy somehow under my cast that summer. Ugh. It was torture.”
I glanced over at Abbi. She wasn’t looking at my cast anymore but at the foot of the bed. “Are...are you guys okay?”
Abbi laughed, but it was without humor. “I don’t know what that question even means anymore.”
“It’s just...” Dary closed her eyes and shook her head. “Megan was nuts—nuts in the best way. It’s just so weird not having her here, not hearing her voice or seeing her get excited about seeing a cat in a yard or something. It’s just... Nothing is the same.”
“Do you remember the car accident at all?” Abbi asked suddenly.
A tremble coursed through me. “Only a little bit. Like flashes of conversations.”
“Your mom said you had a concussion and that you were having trouble remembering,” Dary said.
I nodded.
“So you don’t remember it all?” Abbi asked again, and my gaze flicked to hers briefly.
“Not much,” I said, and hated myself for it. “But I...I remember that I was going to text you and let you know that...I was leaving.”
“I didn’t get the text.” Abbi lowered her feet to the floor.
“I didn’t get...a chance to send it.”
Dary closed her eyes. “I know you don’t remember, but do you think they...that they suffered?”
Smoothing my hands along the comforter, I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t think so. I don’t think Cody did either.”
“He never woke up,” Abbi stated quietly.
I shook my head, at a loss for what to say as I glanced between them. The lack of Megan was a heavy, tangible presence in the room.