“Hey Mr. Mason.” I say and scope out a seat. The front two rows are completely filled with females, including Kaylee herself. I make my way to a back seat and an empty desk next to Carson who greets me warmly.
As Bruno predicted, there was no announcement about Logan’s death, no plans for a memorial at the school, and no grief counselors. The day went like any other day, except for the part where people were actively talking to me. Okay, mostly guys, but even a few girls strike up convos with me throughout the day. It’s like going from being invisible to being a celebrity. I try to be kind, and mostly to refrain from insulting anyone, even when they say things like irreguardless and speak in annoying text acronyms, and I was like, OMG, NW. IDBY.
However , by the end of third period, I am actually trembling with the need to slap the girl in my journalism class who keeps telling me how super much she wanted to learn journalism so she can get into Fashion Week free and sit up front.
By the time the bell rings and I gather my books, Bruno and his friends Becker and Cassidy are waiting for me outside the classroom door. Becker is tall and spindly, his red hair combed so it falls over his eye. He has his arm around Cassidy, a busty short blonde girl with a smattering of freckles across her nose. The ultimate odd couple.
“Hey,” Bruno says, taking my books.
I let myself grab him with one arm and hug him gently. Logan is standing beside him, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see anyone in my life. It’s so weird how I’ve gotten so used to having him around in such a short period of time.
“How was class?” Cassidy asks me cheerfully.
“Well, I didn’t strangle anyone, so I count that as a raging success.”
She smiles warmly. “You guys getting ready to start yearbook orders?”
I nod. “Yeah, actually we are opening up for orders next week. Just working on layout so we have an estimate of how much printing is gonna cost.”
“Can’t they just estimate based on the page count from last year?” Becker asks, flicking his head to get the hair out of his eyes.
I pause, “Yeah. We will do that. But they are talking about adding a few pages. I think they want to put together some kind of memorial for Logan.”
It’s only half a lie. The memorial was my idea. It’ll give me an excuse to get pictures and talk to people about him, specifically Kaylee. A stroke of genius, if I do say so myself.
“Clever,” Logan mumbles, looking reluctantly impressed.
“May I walk you to lunch?” Bruno asks, holding out his arm as I weave mine through.
“That’d be wonderful.”
Becker tisks. “Quit being so chivalrous. You’re making the rest of us look bad, dude.”
Bruno beams as we head for the parking lot.
One of the nicest things about being a senior is off campus lunch privileges I decide, as we pile into Becker’s Rubicon. Not that our tiny town has a lot of options, but tradition dictates that at least for the first day, we eat at The Melting Pot. The pizza is to die for and it has all the charm of a 1970’s head shop.
The large round table in the very back is already full of Logan’s friends. Everyone is there. Darla, head cheerleader and the only person on the planet under the age of fifty who actually plays the harp, Katelyn and Abygail Rodgers, aka the twins, Austin Lattimer, whose mother is the town Mayor, and of course, Jesus DePalma, who is built like a NFL linebacker and has a mowhawk, earning him the moniker Mr. T. Even Becca and Madison are there, somehow having detached themselves from Kaylee’s ass for five minutes.
The only person missing is Kaylee.
“Hey guys,” Bruno says, pulling out a chair for me. “You all know Zoe, right?”
They take turns murmuring hello with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Katelyn and Abygail seem genuinely pleased to meet me officially for the first time (though we’ve shared classes for three years) and Austin and Jesus are equally kind and friendly. The lemmings couldn’t care less that I’m there and Darla looks legitimately put out. Then I remember that she and Bruno dated for a few months last year. No wonder she’s giving me scorpion eyes.
The waitress comes over and the guys proceed to order.
“Two large pepperoni with extra cheese and light sauce please,” Jesus says.
“And I need a salad,” Darla chimes in, with a few of the other girls asking for the same.
“And I need a medium deep dish with pepperoni, jalapeño, pineapple, and bacon,” I add.
The twins stare at me in abject horror. I look over at Bruno, sure I’ve committed some cardinal sin, but he’s just grinning. The waitress brings over a massive pitcher of soda and the conversation begins.
Logan has sprawled out in the booth next to us and he’s watching the group intently.
“Where’s Kaylee?” he asks suspiciously.
I look around the table. “Where’s Kaylee?”
Madison makes a show of flipping her blonde hair. “She said she had other plans. Can you believe that?”
The guys could really care less, but thankfully Darla is intrigued enough to ask a follow up. “Plans? Plans with who?”
“With whom,” Logan corrects from his booth making me want to give him a big grammar Nazi high five.
Madison shrugs, but Becca leans over and whispers conspiratorially. “I think it’s the new mystery guy she’s seeing.”
Darla clanks the ice in her cup with the straw. “Who cares?” she says bitterly.
Madison and Becca are on the Dance Committee so I decide to change the subject.
“Hey, just so you know, we picked a date and a theme for Homecoming,” I say, feigning enthusiasm. “Well, it was actually Leena’s idea. We are doing Venetian Masquerade.”
Becca swoons. “Ooo. I love that.” She turns to Madison and they immediately start planning. “We could do one of those little boats for people to take their picture in.”
“A gondola,” I say helpfully.
“Right. And we can drape a bunch of blue and black sheer fabric from the ceiling and put little white lights underneath so it looks like the night sky,” Madison taps her chin thoughtfully.
“And everyone can wear beautiful masks,” Darla says, visibly warming to the idea. Then her tone sours. “Maybe Kaylee will show up with her new guy, you know, since we won’t be able to see his face.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Madison asks meekly, like she’s unsure if something just flew over her head.
Darla smirks. “Well obviously he’s completely ugly and deformed if she’s ashamed to be seen with him. She probably pulled an Anna Nicole and she’s dating some rich old guy on life support.”
Becca makes a disgusted face and Madison laughs. Aby almost shoots soda out her nose.
“Well, whoever he is, I feel for the guy,” Austin says and the other guys nod in agreement.
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“Let’s just say that a vicious, man eating piranha would probably make a better girlfriend.”
Bruno waves the waitress over for another pitcher. “Yeah. Logan deserves a friggin medal for putting up with her for so long.”
“Deserved,” Darla corrects, sending a ripple of tension through the group.
They all fall silent, the tension heavy in the air.
“So, do you have a date yet?” Cassidy asks me, breaking the silence.
I can actually feel the relief rush in like a cool breeze. “Yeah, actually. Bruno asked me.”
Across the table Austin leans forward, giving Bruno a very manly fist bump.
Jesus whistles. “Nicely done dude.”
Becker just rolls his eyes and mumbles. “About time, too.”
The pizzas arrive and the group breaks into discussions of lacrosse, hateful teachers, and summer vacation recaps. I just listen, trying to add a passively interested comment here and there. Logan finally stands up and moves behind me.
“Hey, I’m going to go look for Kaylee.”
I nod, looking if as in respo
nse to something Becker is saying and Logan vanishes. He’s still gone when we finish and head back to school.
No sooner am I back in school and back in class than Logan finally reappears. I shake my head just a fraction. I told him not to bug me in class.
“I know, but its Kaylee. She’s in the bathroom crying. As soon as I realized where she was, I went outside and waited for her to come out. But she still hasn’t. And I think…she was throwing up.”
My hand launches into the air.
“Yes?” Mrs. Green, my AP European teacher, asks from behind her fifties style cat-eye glasses.
“May I have a restroom pass please?”
Eleven
I pause outside the door. Beside me, Logan looks worried. I can just faintly hear someone inside making a dry heave sound. Steeling myself, I push open the door and walk in. At the sound of my footsteps Kaylee muffles her cries and I hear her get to her feet and flush. I turn on the water like I’m washing my hands. She walks out and her normally porcelain complexion is a sickly white with a twinge of green. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy.
“Are you alright?” I ask softly. She glares at me, as if I’ve just asked her for a kidney.
“Fine.” She says finally, turning on the water and scooping a handful into her mouth. She swishes it around and spits it out.
“Do you need me to like, get the nurse or something?”
She looks over at me again. “I know you. From the funeral.”
“I’m Zoe.”
She nods, dipping her face low over the sink and rinsing out her mouth again. She clutches the sink with both hands, just taking deep breaths.
“Um, if you aren’t feeling well, I can drive you home,” I offer, earning me another dirty look. “Or find someone who can?”
She shakes her head.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
I tilt my head. “Because you’re sick. And because, Logan and I used to be friends.”
That makes her expression soften just a little. She laughs dryly.
“Logan was friends with everyone.”
I nod. “Yeah he was.”
She stands upright, adjusting herself in the mirror.
“Um,” I point to her head. “You have a little puke in your hair.”
She makes a face and turns her head, spotting the gooey strands. The sight of it makes her turn and run back into the stall yakking, head down into the toilet.
The sound and stench of it is enough to set off my own gag reflex but I manage to hold it down. I grab a handful of paper towels and wet them in the sink. Folding them into a long rectangle I step up behind her, carefully lift her hair and place it on the back of her neck.
“Thanks,” she mutters, resting her head on the side of the toilet.
I press my back against the outside of the stall and slide down to a sitting position.
After a few minutes of silence she finally speaks again.
“We broke up, you know. I dumped him just before…” her voice trails off.
“I know. He uh, called me after. He was upset. And worried about you. Even after, he still cared about you, you know?”
She sits up, her eyes glassy. “He told you about the break up?”
I nod. “Yeah, he did.”
“What else did he say?”
I let my head loll to the side. “Not much. Just that he was, you know, dealing with it.”
She nods. “Can you hand me my purse?” She points to where it sits on the floor beside the sink.
I reach forward and grab the handle, but the snaps aren’t closed and it spills all over the floor.
“Crap. Sorry,” I mutter, crawling forward to clean up the mess.
“No,” she yells.
But it’s too late. I’ve already seen it. The slim white plastic stick with a pink plus sign in the little window.
I turn back to her, “Kaylee, are you?”
She snatches up her bag, stuffing everything back inside. Tears are running down her face, taking her mascara with it.
“Don’t. You can’t say anything to anybody. I mean it. If I find out you told anybody—“
I jump to the defensive. “You’ll what? Beat me with the diaper bag?”
As soon as the words are out I regret them.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I won’t say anything. I promise.” Reaching out I touch her arm gently. “Did Logan know?”
She shakes her head.
“I only found out last week.”
“What are you going to do? I mean, that’s none of my business. Is there anything I can do?”
She gets to her feet, wiping her eyes.
“Yeah. You can keep your dammed mouth shut and leave me alone.” She pushes past me and storms out of the bathroom. I walk out the door and she’s already down the hall, almost to the front doors.
Logan is sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the lockers.
I look down the hall to make sure we’re alone.
“So, I assume you heard that.”
He nods.
“You okay?”
He shakes his head no. I take a deep breath. After a few seconds he looks up.
“It’s not mine, Zoe. It can’t be.”
I scratch my head.
“So, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it can happen. Even when, you know, you’re careful. Condoms aren’t made of lead.”
He stands up, staring at me intently.
“No, you don’t understand. It can’t be mine. We haven’t been together in like six months.”
That surprises me.
“Really?” I pause, letting the info sink in. “Six months?”
“Zoe, I swear. Whatever’s going on, that’s not my kid.”
I frown.
“I believe you. It’s just…”
“Shocking?” he offers.
Then I think about Kaylee. Shocking really isn’t the right word.
“Sad.”
I head back to class just before the bell rings. I have every intention of keeping her secret. No reason to tell anyone, in a town this size, everyone will know soon enough. If there’s one thing worse than being invisible, it’s being the town slut, and that’s exactly what’s about to happen to Kaylee. Mega bitch or not, no one deserves that.
The day rolls on and Bruno drives me home. As we pull into my driveway he puts the truck in park and turns to face me.
“So listen, Zoe. I was wondering if, I mean I know we haven’t been hanging out that long,” he pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I guess what I’m asking is, will you, do you want to be, my girlfriend?”
From the back seat Logan grumbles.
“Kiss the poor guy before he has a stroke.”
Leaning forward slowly I stretch up, pressing my lips to his. Bruno reaches up and touches the side of my face, cupping my cheek.
My stomach lurches. Not because of the kiss, but because I feel like I’m the worst person on the planet. I open my eyes, pulling away, but Bruno isn’t finished with me yet. He grins and leans in for another kiss.
I feel Logan vanish even though I don’t see it. As soon as he’s gone I feel the pressure in the cab of the truck relax and I allow myself to be drawn into Bruno’s arms. He’s strong and warm and he smells like summer grass. I feel a deep ache grow in the pit of my stomach. My skin flushes and my heartbeat quickens. I feel him smile against my lips.
He draws away, catching his breath.
“I take that as a yes.”
I nod. “Yes.”
Logan is waiting for me in my room. He’s pacing, looking like he’s about to scream. I can’t blame him. Finding out his ex girlfriend is knocked up by some other dude has to suck royally.
“You alright?” I ask, tossing my messenger bag on the bed and flopping down to take off my shoes.
He makes a face. “Oh yeah. I’m great. My life is falling apart and you are out sucking face with my best friend.”
“You told me to kiss him, you ass hat.”
“Forgot you were dead again, huh?” I ask with a snicker.
He glares. “How could I? I spent all day sitting in the hallway at school watching people I used to care about walk right through me.”
I snort. “Welcome to my life.”
He frowns and looks at me like maybe he’s seeing me for the first time. And I realize he is. He’s seeing life through my eyes. Our positions have been completely reversed and he hates it. My stomach churns. He hates me.
“Do you hate me?” I ask softly. “For still being alive? For being where you used to be?”
He sighs slowly. “Maybe a little.” Then he turns his back to me, looking out the window. “Maybe I just hate myself for putting you there.”
His expression changes and he leans forward, pressing his hands against the glass.
“What is it?” I ask, moving to his side.
He jerks his chin. “There. Across the street by the mailbox. Do you see him?”
He steps back and I take his place. I see the mailbox, Mrs. Kelly’s yard gnomes guarding her front door. And a couple of kids riding by on bikes.
“No. I don’t see anyone.” I turn and look at Logan whose face has set in a scowl. “Is it him? The one who’s been following you?”
He nods and a shiver ripples across my skin. I wrap my arms around my torso, hugging myself. Behind me, Logan steps forward. I feel him touch my arm for just a heartbeat before he goes intangible again.
“It’s okay Zoe. I’m not going to let him hurt you.”
I swallow hard. It’s not me that I’m worried about.
Twelve
The next morning, Bruno shoots me a text to say good morning and asks me to meet him in the parking lot before class. He has practice after school so we’re taking separate cars today. I have to admit, after our kiss last night I was almost glad he wasn’t picking me up. I mean, how am I supposed to greet him now? Will he be one of those guys who likes to make out in public all the time? I’m so nervous I feel like I’ve swallowed a wasp’s nest.
Logan watched over me all night as I tossed and turned restlessly. Nothing like good old fashioned terror to keep you up all night. Every once in a while I caught him looking at me with this soft expression. Something about it made me feel warm and safe. He’d left the room while I changed without my having to ask, then re-emerged right away. True to his word he’s sticking close today, though he hasn’t been his normal, chatty self. He’s been stoic, a man with a lot on his mind. As I drive to school, the silence is physically painful, weighing down on me like a sack of bricks.
Losing Logan Page 9
