“Was he sad?” Kelsi asked in a soft voice.
“My dad?” Mindy asked, turning to her. Kelsi nodded. Mindy considered this for a minute. “I don’t know. I never saw him cry or anything. He told me and my sister he was sad. But he’s remarried. He has a new wife and a little baby now. I think it’s weird for him that we live with him.”
“Do you like your stepmom?” The question came from Logan. It surprised me that he was participating instead of mocking.
Mindy shook her head. “Not really. She’s really young. She doesn’t like us. Me and my sister, I mean.”
“That must be hard,” Cody said.
Mindy glanced at him. “Yeah,” she said. “It is. We don’t talk about my mom very often anymore. My dad gets uncomfortable when we bring her up.”
I caught her eye. “You can talk about her here,” I said.
“With us.”
Mindy smiled at me, a little sadly. “Yeah. I know.”
“My mom died,” Kelsi said in a tumble of words. “But you all know that. Everyone knows that. Don’t they?”
There was a brief silence, then Cody laughed. It sounded out of place after her somber declaration. I looked at him, startled.
“Yeah, we’re pretty much all famous,” he said. To my surprise, Kelsi laughed too.
“Everyone knows you,” Cody went on, “but no one knows what the heck to say to you.”
“Sure they do,” Kelsi said. She batted her eyelashes and adopted a high-pitched voice. “We’re so sorry!”
We all laughed. I hadn’t expected this. I was feeling better about this meeting idea every moment.
“Yeah,” Mindy chimed in. “And then they just stare at you. And avoid you. Because they don’t know what to say after that.”
Everyone laughed except Logan and Sydney. “That’s not true,” Sydney interjected. The laughter died down, and everyone looked at her. “People don’t do that.”
Cody narrowed his eyes. “Yeah they do.”
“You’re just being paranoid,” Sydney retorted.
“Really?” Cody shot back. “And what makes you the expert?”
Sydney’s face was turning red. “I’m just saying that I think you’re all blowing things out of proportion,” she said, her voice rising. She looked to Logan for support, but he was looking at his feet. “Besides, it’s not like anyone means badly by it.”
I hated to make things smoother for Sydney, especially when she didn’t belong here. But I also hated to have us fighting at the first meeting. So before Cody could reply, I cut in. “Sydney, I think Cody just means that people don’t know how to act around us,” I said. “Because they don’t know what to say.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Sydney said. “Act like you’re some kind of royalty or something? Just because you had one bad thing happen to you?”
I stared at her. “None of us expect to be treated like royalty. We just want to be treated normally. And it’s not like having your parent die is just some random ‘bad thing,’ you know. It’s a huge deal.”
“Or maybe you’re just making it a big deal,” Sydney said. “Honestly, Lacey. I think this whole thing is a little silly. Don’t you?”
She looked around the table, smirking, as if it were full of people who would agree with her. I was a bit heartened to see that Kelsi, Cody, and Mindy were staring stonily back at her. I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, there was a deep voice from the direction of the doorway.
“I don’t think it’s silly at all.”
We all turned to see who had come in unannounced. I practically fell out of my chair. Sam was standing by the hostess stand, his Red Sox cap pulled low over his forehead.
“Hey,” he said, looking directly at me. My heart was pounding, and my cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Um, thanks for saying that. But, um, what are you doing here? This is a group for people who have lost a parent.”
Sam nodded slowly. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”
I was confused. I stared at him for a minute, uncomprehending.
“My dad,” Sam said. He cleared his throat. “I lost my dad.”
chapter 12
I couldn’t believe it.
“Oh,” I said. My cheeks grew even warmer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Suddenly, the conversation in the car came flooding back to me. Sam telling me he knew how I felt. Me getting defensive and mad. I felt a little sick.
Sam glanced at Sydney. “At my old school, everyone was weird to me. After they found out about my dad. I didn’t want to have to deal with it with a whole new group of people when I moved here, you know?”
I knew exactly what he meant.
“I was trying to tell you,” he said, looking straight at me. “That’s what I was trying to say to you that day in the car.”
“Oh.” I swallowed hard.
“What happened, man?” Cody asked. “If it’s cool for me to ask.”
“A stroke,” Sam said. “He had a stroke.”
Sydney seemed to have been shamed into silence. The rest of us mumbled words of apology.
“Was it recent?” I asked. “With your dad?”
“Yeah,” he said in a barely audible voice. “It was a few months ago. He just …” Sam paused, like he wasn’t quite sure what to say next. He took a deep breath. “He was fine, you know? And then all of a sudden he wasn’t. It was like something just went wrong in his face, like something short-circuited, you know, like a light that flickers all weird or something.”
“You were with him?” Cody asked.
Sam nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I kept asking him what he was doing. I thought for a minute maybe he was joking, you know. But then I knew he wasn’t. And I called nine-one-one.”
Silence settled over us again.
“So, um, do you want to sit down?” I asked, clearing my throat.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “I do.”
Logan glanced at Sydney again and then back at me.
• • •
Sydney left about five minutes after Sam joined the group. To my surprise, although he remained largely unresponsive, Logan stayed.
In the next hour, with me sort of leading the group, we talked a bit about our parents who had died, a little about what it was like with a whole new family dynamic, and what it was like when everyone at school treated you like a weirdo. But mostly, we just talked, awkwardly at first but then more like friends.
I learned all sorts of things I didn’t know about people. Kelsi wanted to try out for softball this spring; Mindy had done gymnastics until her mom got sick and had even competed twice at the state level. Cody had just gotten a job at the local movie theater, tearing tickets, and he was thinking about signing up for the army next year, despite what had happened to his dad.
There were a million things I wanted to ask Sam, like when his dad had died and why his family had moved to Plymouth or how he seemed so much better adjusted. But unlike the rest of the group, he didn’t seem to be volunteering any information. And I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. So I didn’t say anything.
A few minutes later, after we had complained a little more about therapists and other adults who thought they knew exactly how we were supposed to feel, Cody looked at his watch and stood up. “I gotta go,” he said. “My shift at the movie theater starts at four-thirty.”
I checked my watch too. It was almost four. I couldn’t believe we’d been talking for that long. It felt like just minutes ago that Sam had made his surprise appearance.
“Yeah, I guess we should get home,” I said, glancing at Logan. I took a deep breath. “I am so glad all of you came today. I wasn’t really sure how this would go. But I wanted, I don’t know, a place for us to feel normal, you know?”
“A place for weirdos like us,” Cody said. I thought for a split second that he was making fun of me until he winked and smiled.
“Yeah, weirdos like us,” Mindy echoed. “I like that.”
We all l
aughed.
“So, should we do this again?” I ventured after a moment. “Next week maybe?” I held my breath.
Kelsi and Mindy exchanged glances. Cody shrugged. Logan didn’t reply. But Sam was nodding enthusiastically.
“Yeah,” he said. “I like that idea. Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said, glancing around.
“Yeah,” Kelsi said. “That’d be cool, I guess.”
“Okay,” Mindy said.
“Whatever,” Cody said. We all turned to Logan.
“I guess,” he mumbled, looking down.
I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. This was really going to work.
“Can I make a suggestion, though?” Sam asked. “What if we met somewhere else?”
“Like where?” Kelsi asked.
Sam smiled. “What if we went bowling?”
“Bowling?” Logan repeated.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Why not? My aunt Donna owns Lucky Strikes Lanes over off Main. I bet she’ll give us a big discount. Or maybe she’ll even let us bowl free.”
“That sounds cool,” Cody said.
I looked at the girls. I was worried that bowling would sound dorky and they wouldn’t want to go. But they both nodded.
“Okay,” Kelsi said.
I looked at Logan. He seemed annoyed, but he shrugged. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered.
I turned back to Sam and smiled. “That sounds like a good idea. So next Tuesday, then? A week from today?”
Everyone nodded.
“If anyone needs a ride, maybe we can just meet in the parking lot after school,” Sam said. “I drive a Cherokee. I can fit a bunch of people.”
“Okay, next Tuesday it is,” I said. “And guys?”
Everyone looked at me, expectant. I paused.
“Thanks,” I said finally. “Really. Thanks.”
No one said anything for a minute. Then Mindy said softly, “Well, thanks for setting this up. It’s nice to be someplace where you don’t feel like a weirdo. Where you can feel like you did …”
Her voice trailed off. I knew exactly what she meant. But it was Kelsi who put it into words.
“Before,” she filled in, her voice soft. “Where you can feel like you did before everything changed.”
I beamed. This felt like the most important thing I had ever done. I was helping people.
“Thanks for coming,” I said quietly.
And then, with a bunch of mumbled goodbyes, everyone went their separate ways. Sam glanced back and smiled at me as he walked out the door, but he didn’t wait or ask if I needed a ride. A wall had gone up between us, and I’d been the one to put it there, all because I’d assumed that he was just like everyone else.
• • •
That night, Mom tried to get us to talk about the meeting, and I told her a little bit about it. Logan was strangely quiet, muttering only yes or no to Mom’s questions. Tanner, as usual, pushed his food around on his plate and was silent. I felt a knot starting to form in my stomach as I looked around the table at my silent little brother, my sad-eyed mother, and grumpy Logan. For the millionth time, I missed Dad so much I could feel the pain in my chest.
After dinner, everyone shut themselves away in their rooms, even Mom. It made it feel like we were living in four separate little universes.
I did my trig homework at the dining room table, puzzling over one particularly complicated cosine problem. Then, closing my books, I walked upstairs and knocked on Logan’s door.
“What?” he barked.
“It’s me,” I said. “Can I come in?”
There was a moment of silence. “Whatever.”
I hadn’t been in Logan’s room in a while, and I was struck by how unfamiliar it felt. He had the same blue and green bedspread, of course, and the same white blinds that were a little bent on the lower right side. But he had taken down the surfing posters he used to have on his walls. In their place, he had a big collage made out of pictures of him and Sydney, with little hearts drawn all over it. Sydney had made it, of course, but I couldn’t believe he had actually put it up.
He was sitting at his desk, shoulders slumped, staring at the bright screen of his computer. He had his history textbook spread in front of him and a few IM windows open.
“I, um, just wanted to say thanks for coming today,” I said. I stood awkwardly in the doorway for a minute, then I crossed the room and sat on his bed. Logan sighed, typed a few things into the IM windows, and then turned around to look at me.
“Thanks,” I continued after a pause. “For staying. After Sydney left, I mean.”
“Yeah, well, now she’s pissed at me,” Logan said.
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t want to say that I was sorry, because I wasn’t. “Well, maybe she shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”
Evidently, this was the wrong thing to say.
“Who are you to tell my girlfriend where she can and can’t go?” Logan exploded.
“I’m not trying to do that,” I said defensively.
“Whatever,” Logan said bitterly. “You made her feel so uncomfortable. And now she’s mad at me.”
“Logan, I didn’t do anything to make her feel uncomfortable,” I said. “She got all defensive. Remember?”
“Yeah, well,” Logan said. But he didn’t continue.
We sat in silence. Then all of a sudden, Logan blurted out, “What’s the point, anyways?”
I was startled. “The point of what?”
“Of your stupid club?” Logan asked. “What, like it’s supposed to make us feel better?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought it might help. I thought today went well.”
“Yeah, for you, maybe,” he said.
I stared at him.
“You know, you say you hate that we feel different from everyone else,” he said. “But then you start some group that makes us feel even more different.”
“It’s not supposed to make us feel like that,” I protested. “It’s supposed to give us a place to just feel normal.”
“It’s all about you, isn’t it?” he said, an edge of bitterness creeping into his voice.
I couldn’t understand why he’d say something like that. Everything I did these days was for other people. I worried about Mom. I tried to get Tanner to talk. I put up with Logan’s stupid girlfriend just to keep the peace. “What are you talking about?” I asked.
Logan rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, you’ve been Saint Lacey since Dad died,” he said. “But don’t you ever get sick of being good? I mean, don’t you just want to get pissed off at the world sometimes?”
“No,” I said. How would that help?
Logan made a face. “Yeah, well, I don’t always want to be perfect, you know? And Sydney doesn’t want me to be.”
He gazed at me triumphantly, like the fact that he had a “supportive” girlfriend was the answer to everything.
I stared at him for a minute. “How does Sydney even know what she wants, anyhow? She’s so joined at the hip with you that I think you two are sharing a brain.”
“Shut up, Lacey,” he said. “You don’t know everything.”
I stood up. “Sometimes I don’t think you know anything at all.”
“You can’t bring him back, you know,” Logan said. “You can’t bring anyone’s parents back or make things like they were before. And it’s stupid to try.”
I stormed out of his room, slamming the door behind me. I went into my room, slamming that door too, and collapsed on my bed.
I waited for a minute, figuring that Mom would come to see what the problem was. After all, I was sure that the slamming doors could probably be heard down the block, especially since our house was so silent these days.
But she never came. And Logan didn’t come to apologize. Instead, the loneliness settled down on me like a fog, and I lay slowly back on my bed, soaking in the silence.
chapter 13
After our Saturday-afternoon appoi
ntment with Dr. Schiff, Mom, Logan, and Tanner had once again shut themselves away in their rooms. Feeling lonely and bored, I called Jennica.
“Want to go to the mall or something?” I asked. Silence. Then, “I’m busy, Lacey.”
“With Brian?” I ventured.
“Not exactly,” she replied. More awkward silence. Then she said, “Look. I found out on Thursday that my dad’s getting remarried, okay? And things are just a little weird around here. I don’t really feel like going to the mall.”
I was stunned. “Your dad’s getting remarried? To Leanne?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t know it was that serious,” I said.
“Yeah, well,” Jennica said. I could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Lacey.”
I wondered what she meant. “But … why didn’t you tell me?”
Jennica was silent for a minute. “I guess I didn’t really expect you to understand.”
“What?” Jennica and I talked about everything. Or at least we used to.
“Well, it’s not like he’s dead or anything,” Jennica said. “I mean, you’re always going on and on about how your life is so different because your dad died.”
“I never talk about it,” I interjected, surprised. I really didn’t.
“Yeah, well,” Jennica said. “I guess I just didn’t expect you to take my problem that seriously.”
“You’re my best friend,” I said. “Of course I’d take your problem seriously.”
“Be honest,” she said. “You think my thing is so much less important than yours, don’t you?”
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to say yes, of course. No matter how sad she was, at least her dad was still alive. She still got to see him sometimes. Her whole world hadn’t been shattered. Not the way mine had been. But I knew she didn’t see it that way. And I knew that admitting that would be the wrong thing to say. “Um,” I said instead.
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