Not Now, Not Ever: A Novel

I could imagine how nice it would feel to cry. To set down the team’s candy and go back up to the dorm and curl up on my too-small bed. To think about how the carpet made the residence hall smell and to try to remember what my sheets at home felt like. To feel the weight of all of my stupid hopes and dreams and all of the trust that I’d sold out the second I’d climbed onto that train.

I took in a breath so deep that it burned the back of my throat, killing a sob before it could start. I could taste the eucalyptus baked into my sweater.

No more phone calls, I swore to myself.

I had to leave California where it was. It’d wait for me. If I didn’t want this summer to be a wash, I had to focus. On Ever. On the Melee. On two more weeks of work.

Even if that work was currently bad-mouthing The Breakfast Club.





13


I burrowed deeper into my sheets, pulling them up over my forehead. The creases from the packaging scratched against my arms. On the other side of the room, Leigh’s nose whistled. She’d crashed the second Meg had called lights-out. I wasn’t even sure she’d brushed the popcorn kernels out of her teeth first.

I had never been good at falling asleep. The family psychologist my dad had dragged me to after Mom left had sworn that it was a by-product of the divorce. Keep her on a regular bedtime schedule and she’ll acclimate. Once she feels safe in this new normal, her body will accept the change.

Total bull. It’s not like I was staying up late, pining for my mother. Especially now, when I’d lived longer without her nearby than with. When I laid down, my brain just clicked on like it’d been waiting all day to run through scenarios and idle questions.

In the dark, it was impossible to stay in character. Telling myself that Ever didn’t have mild insomnia couldn’t change my brain chemistry.

Besides, was there an Ever Lawrence if there was no one to perceive her as someone separate from Elliot Gabaroche?

If I was setting up Buddhist riddles for myself, there was no way I was going to fall asleep.

Lights flashed through my blankets as sirens split through the night. I almost jumped out of my skin. I heard Leigh slap into the wall, and something crashed downstairs. I flung the sheets off my head. The red fire alarm box built into the ceiling over my wardrobe was blaring and blinking.

I lurched over the side of my bed, stuffing my feet into my Jordans. Leigh struggled against her zebra sheets, kicking wildly.

“Come on,” I shouted to her over the wail of the alarm. “We need to get downstairs!”

Fists pounded on doors up and down the floor, accompanied by a squeaking voice—Meg, telling us to get out and take nothing.

I yanked Leigh to her feet. She scooped up her shoes as we flew out of the room into the glare of the hallway. There must have been dozens of alarms hidden in the ceiling. The lights burned white in strobing intervals and the noise was a constant screech, drowning out the sound of doors opening and yawned questions.

“Take the stairs!” the Perfect Nerd Girl yelled from the end of the hall.

Leigh hopped into her shoes as I kicked open the stairwell door. A crush of pajamas cascaded down the stairs. I couldn’t smell smoke, and the cement walls were cold as my arms brushed them. But there were shouts from counselors, pushing us forward, pushing us out. I kept Leigh in front of me, using her yellow hair as a guide through the crowd.

Lumberjack Beard was at the base of the stairs, holding open the door. “Get away from the building! This is not a drill!” A kid stumbled into him. Lumberjack Beard scooped him up by the armpits and tossed him out into the lobby. “Come on, Onobanjo. I’m not gonna lose you. Not tonight.”

The sirens echoed through the quad. Hari was already outside, directing traffic away from the residence halls with two flashlights.

“Everybody go toward the library!” he called. “Go quick!”

The path toward the library was dark. The trees grew thicker in between the buildings, blocking out the streetlamps. The alarms persisted in a constant scream. I imagined the residence hall smoldering behind us, flames licking through laptops and twin XL mattresses and the novels I’d unpacked on my desk. I tried to catch a glimpse of Isaiah, but there were too many strangers shoving by me.

Don’t burn alive, you moron, I thought. I cannot handle Grandmother Lawrence making a martyr out of you.

The people ahead of us skittered to a stop and took a sharp left turn into a copse of trees. The path to the library had been sectioned off with caution tape. One of the RAs was shooing everyone away.

“There’s a clearing through the trees!” she said. “Go through and find your teammates! We need to get a head count as soon as possible!”

Leigh shot me a nervous glance before we stepped off the path and into pitch darkness. The ground was squishy under my sneakers. Twigs snapped and people cursed that they’d run out without their shoes. The sound of the alarms started to fade behind us as we snaked through the trees.

“Team Four!” someone shouted.

“Team Six!”

“Team Three!”

Leigh and I entered a clearing where half a dozen flashlights were waving. The starry sky stretched above us, illuminating the sparse grass and trees hung with garbage. No, not garbage exactly. Dream catchers. Silverware on ribbons. Birdhouses. Christmas ornaments.

“Ever! Leigh!”

A light hit my face. I threw my hands up and squinted between my fingers. Jams came into focus, first as a big-eared shadow and then as a pale wisp. A body next to him raised a hand in greeting—Brandon.

“Hey!” Jams said, waving wildly at us. “I recognized your hair!”

I looked down at Leigh and found her staring up at me. It dawned on me that, while no one had hair brighter than my roommate, I was also the only girl at camp rocking a full ’fro. I was the pot judging the kettle’s coif. Oops.

“Where did you get the flashlight?” Leigh asked Jams.

“Hari shoved it at me before he went out to direct traffic.”

“So,” I said to Brandon. He, I noticed, had managed to put his Chuck Taylors on. “This is more exciting than The Breakfast Club, huh?”

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants and blew out a shaky breath. “Yep.”

More flashlights broke through the trees. We broke into a chorus of “Team One!” to guide Galen and Hunter toward us. Or a fully dressed Galen and Hunter’s very bare chest. Leigh’s nails dug into my arm. I hadn’t considered that not everyone would go to sleep in sweats and an undershirt, like me. Hunter was unabashedly standing only in his boxers and a pair of flip-flops.

“Praise to the Flying Spaghetti Monster,” Leigh whispered. “My eyes just adjusted to the darkness.”

“Mine too,” Jams said. He and Leigh shared a giggle.

Kate and Perla stumbled through the trees next. Perla had braided her hair into two long pigtails. A fork was dangling from the end of one. She ripped it out and threw it on the ground.

“Where’s Meg?” Kate panted.

“Where are any of the counselors?” I asked, scanning the crowd. Every flashlight seemed to be held by a camper.

“Maybe we should go back and make sure they got out of the building okay,” Hunter said.

“There she is!” Galen said, pointing at the trees.

Meg trotted out, a flashlight in her hand. She broke into a smile as she saw all of us together.

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