Being involved with the Gatekeepers is exactly what I’ve needed. Without them, I would spend all day staring at Braden’s email log-in and I can’t do that. I have to get on with my life. I have so much untapped energy now that the field hockey season is over, it feels good to pour it into something with an actual purpose and not just debating fonts for the Italian Club mixer invite.
Being with this group makes me realize that we’re all going through something and the best way to get through it is to rely on each other. I mean, who’d have guessed that Owen Freaking Foley-Feinstein would end up back in my and Theo’s life, and that we’d both be thankful every day for him? If Braden felt like he could have leaned on a collective group of us, like he had more of a formal support system, maybe everything would have been different. Maybe we could have helped Paulie and Macey. Maybe Stephen would still be here, ruining the curve for everyone.
I so wish we’d come together sooner. I wish we hadn’t each been battling everything on our own. But we’re here now, collectively strong, and that’s the best we can do.
Liam stares straight ahead while I scurry alongside. “Can’t make it, sorry.”
Perspiration streams down from his hairline, soaking his shirt collar. “Hey, are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You’re sweating even though it’s so cold and—”
He grabs my wrist. “What is it that you need right now, Mallory?”
I extricate myself from his grip and shake out my hand. Not cool. “Whoa, Liam, manhandle much? I better not have a bruise. Ow. Seriously, ouch. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Whatever.”
Liam is practically running away from me now.
“Whatever? I think the words you’re looking for are ‘I’m sorry, Mallory.’”
He turns around to flip me the bird and I notice the black eye and split lip right before he turns the corner and vanishes from sight.
Oh, no, Liam.
Jasper comes up behind me. “You okay, Malady?” he asks, genuinely concerned.
If someone had told me at the beginning of the semester that not only would I be BFFs with Owen, but that Liam would regard me as the enemy and Jasper would be my ally, I’d have laughed. Yet here we are.
Jasper and I made peace with the advent of the Gatekeepers. He’s as concerned as the rest of us with helping the kids in our school, so I’ve stopped being so hard on him. I promised I’d stop calling him the JasHole and he pledged to stop being one.
So far, we’re both keeping our word.
I mean, yes, his first inclination was to throw a huge party for the Gatekeepers, but he was reasonable when I objected.
“Um, Jasper? Is free and easy access to unlimited liquor the best idea right now?” I’d asked. Our group had just been discussing the link between the increase in adolescent alcohol use and suicidal ideation.
“Valid point, Mallomar,” he’d replied. He’s finally taken to making plays on my name, after all these years. I’m shocked to find this endearing. (It’s an entirely different universe around here now, I’m telling you.) “We need to do something, though.”
As an alternative, his dad rented a whole bowling alley and chartered buses so that we could have an all-school outing. The event ended up being awesome. Everyone agreed it was so refreshing to participate in a sport where our futures didn’t depend on the final score. Most of the student body attended and it was hilarious to see some our elite athletes tossing gutter balls, while people like Kent completely slayed.
The night felt like we were all part of something bigger than ourselves.
Jasper and I were paired up at the outing. Despite initial trepidations, we were high-fiving and performing victory dances by the end of the night. I may even have admitted I didn’t hate his look—grass-green cords with tiny candy canes embroidered on them. We bonded and we’re firmly on the same side now.
“You have any clue what’s going on with Liam?” I asked. “He practically just ripped my head off. I thought he and I were cool.”
Jasper shrugs. “Can’t tell ya what’s up. He’s stopped talking to me.”
“You’re kidding!” I stop in my tracks. “Since when? You luff him.” I make a little heart with my hands to demonstrate my point. “You guys are BFFs.”
A flash of something—sadness? regret?—crosses his normally implacable face. “Were, past tense. I talked to his parents about his new drug habit. I even implicated myself, saying I’d supplied him in the beginning. I thought that might afford him some protection, given how his folks are always sucking up to mine. But you saw his face.” He gestures toward his eye and lip. “That’d be a no.”
Before we can discuss this further, the warning bell rings and we have to go to class.
“I’m legit worried,” he says. “We need to do something. I’m gonna rally the troops for lunch to discuss a strategy. You in, Maladjusted?”
I nod. “Count on it.”
*
Owen, Theo, Kent, Jasper, and I are meeting to download what happened with Liam. We’re an odd fivesome; not a group you’d ever imagine together, sort of like our own Breakfast Club, Generation Z–style.
“He’s all agitated now? As in aggro?” Owen asks. “I saw him barf in the sink in the men’s room yesterday. Said he’d had some bad fish. That makes no sense. I was, like, ‘On Sloppy Joe Day? Who eats fish on Sloppy Joe Day?’”
“He couldn’t sit still in class this morning,” Jasper adds. “His knee was bouncing so hard, Mr. Lawless had to say something.”
“Withdrawals,” Kent says, his lips forming a thin, grim line.
Kent still doesn’t talk much when we’re together as a group. Yet when he does speak, his thoughts always add value and I’m grateful for his input. He’d have been an excellent peer counselor. For everything bad that’s happened this semester, I’m finding a few silver linings. Having the collective wisdom of the Gatekeepers behind me is at the top of that list.
“Withdrawals? That sucks,” Owen says.
“Wouldn’t withdrawals mean the drugs are leaving his system? Seems like that’s good news,” I say.
Kent replies, “Yeah, jury’s still out on that. Simone says his parents went batshit, really cracking the whip.”
To himself, Jasper mutters, “Literally and figuratively.”
I chose not to elaborate for the group to help Liam keep some semblance of dignity.
Kent says, “From what I’ve pieced together, doesn’t sound like he’s getting help. His mom and dad are just sweeping the whole thing under the rug.”
“They aren’t putting him in treatment?” I ask. “Even outpatient?”
Kent shakes his head.
“That’s a bad idea. You’ve got to figure the pills were just the symptom—there’s something bigger going on there, right?” Theo says.
We all nod. Jasper clenches and unclenches his fists, as though he wouldn’t mind punching something, or, rather, someone. When they were kids, Liam spent every waking moment at Jasper’s place to avoid his dad’s wrath.