“Savannah! Are you okay? Is Marcos okay?” Jacki Guzman pounces at our lockers.
“Alive and kicking.” Figures Cassie would have a conveniently timed field trip. I’m regretting not taking up my father on his rare “Are you sure you want to go to school?” offer this morning. I don’t want to answer questions. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I want to crawl back in bed and sleep until it’s time for practice. Sleep until June while I’m at it.
“Savannah?”
I whirl around. There’s no way.
Jacki squeals. “You’re alive!”
“Guess so.” Marcos’s voice is gravelly. Forehead covered with a gauze pad, his arm in a cast, two dimples that can’t be quelled despite the scratches across his cheeks, he looks at me and grins.
My heart flips. He’s patched back together. He’s here. “You said you weren’t back yet.”
He shrugs. “They let me out this morning–”
I don’t hesitate. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him, ignoring the chorus of catcalls and “Get it, Gregory!” from my classmates.
He stumbles backward, cast knocking into the orange locker. “I should dislocate my elbow more often.”
“Please don’t,” I mumble into his shoulder, “or I will need to break your skull.” I inhale deeply. Still fresh as cotton, still strong despite being thrown to the concrete.
He hugs me back just as fiercely as someone can with one arm. “If you were anyone else, I’d think you were kidding.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Concussed, generally shitty, and these bones are killing me,” he says into my neck.
“Maybe hugging isn’t the wisest choice.”
His arm tightens around me. “I’ll take that chance.”
WE’RE BOTH EXCUSED from gym–him for his elbow and concussion, me because Dad must have bragged about my meet in the faculty room; when I approached the locker room, Coach Doroski said, “We need to keep you in one piece for States!” Like he has any idea what States are. If it means no mesh jerseys for the day, though, I’ll take it.
As our classmates play flag football, Marcos and I walk along the tree line, sidestepping twigs and pinecones. I take a breath of the cool air. “I’m sorry I didn’t want to listen to you about Cassie,” I say. “I didn’t want to believe you. I still don’t want to, if I’m being honest. I think that things have been changing between us for a long time now.”
If I met Cassie today, would we still be friends? I don’t know. I want my friends to be loyal, willing to be honest without making it about their own benefit. She makes me laugh, pushes the messy strands of hair into place, and makes the unbelievable seem plausible. She sat with me for hours on end when all I could do was stare up at the ceiling after my surgery. She’ll turn on my favorite song from when we were twelve to cheer me up.
But she calls the shots. She makes the decisions, and God forbid I want to do something else. She’ll dig and dig until I relent. It was easier to do what she wanted, because I genuinely thought she wanted what was best for both of us.
She left me.
I failed her, too. I didn’t answer the phone when she called me that night. I wasn’t under the bridge as the sun broke over the horizon to lock the car door and keep her from walking out.
I didn’t fail Marcos. Yes, I made a risky and not-so-smart decision to chase after those guys. I refused to hang back, though. I took the chance anyway.
“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he replies, dropping the leaf to lace his fingers through mine. They’re chilly but firm. “When I woke up in the ambulance, I realized that all of this had gone too far.”
“It wasn’t your fault on Sunday,” I say. That’s what Juliana had said–that he’d gone outside to throw out the trash.
“Yeah, I know. I remember that much. It had been building, though. You know what I mean? One thing led to another and, God, it was the scariest experience of my life.” He shakes his head gently. “Not worth the risk. Andreas and I had a good talk at the hospital. We’re both going to work harder on controlling our impulses.”
“Your heart’s in the right place,” I say. “I think you just sometimes run up against the wrong people.”
He nudges me. “Speaking of risks, if I had any idea you’d gone after that guy–”
“I know. It was stupid.” Dangerous. Terrifying. “Even Cassie warned me.”
We pause by a majestic pine and both of us breathe in deeply, the shouts of class and screeches of the whistle far behind.
“It’s hard for me not to assume the worst about people when I’ve met so many shitty ones,” he admits. “It’s easier to stick with the ones I know best so I don’t have to worry about others disappointing me.”
Unfortunately, the ones you know best can also be the ones who disappoint you the most.
“I loved your letter,” I tell him. “It really means a lot to me that you trusted me enough to let me in. I know I can’t fully understand everything about your life.” Just the way I’ve never been able to follow Cassie down her dark roads. “I’ll do my best, though. Promise.”
He nods. “I still owe you a track team tryout, don’t I?”
“Don’t be scared that I’m faster than you,” I tease.
“You sure about that? I’ve had many years of experience chasing after Dre’s ass.”
“Wanna find out?” I tip my head back toward the class. The football tumbles in a wobbly spiral, landing on the ground with a distant thump.
He holds out his cast indignantly. “Have you seen my arm?”
“Look who you’re talking to. My coach made me run laps with a bum wrist.”
“First, there’s one more thing,” he says, and then he leans in as the branches sway above us and I forget all about running.