Nash Coming back today didn’t mean I had to arrive on time. I was back even if it was thirty minutes after the late bell had rung. It wasn’t that I hadn’t gotten up early enough. It was that I had walked out to my Escalade about five times and turned around and come back inside. Every time I had gone out there and started to climb in the driver’s seat, I’d fucking panicked. I hadn’t driven since the morning of the accident. Even when I was riding in the car with my parents, I had been gripping the door handle so tightly my knuckles turned white. I didn’t like cars. The sounds, smells, and Haegan’s lifeless face there beside me all came rushing back. When I had finally gotten in the driver’s seat this morning and cranked it up, my chest was so tight with anxiety I thought I was going to stop breathing. I’d fought through it, though. Forced my head to stop focusing on the wreck. After several de ep breaths I had calmed down enough to drive. I drove slow. So damn slow. I’d never driven like this before in my life. Not even when I had been learning to drive. But I was on guard. Every car around me, I mentally pr epared myself for if they lost control or made a wrong move. I was driving as if I were on the defensive line. Ready to defend myself. Getting to school had taken much longer than necessary. But I had done it. I had driven. Alone. And I was alive. It was one of those things you never really thought about. You took it for granted. Driving a car was what you looked
forward to from the time you were a little kid. When you got to finally drive, you thought your parents’ concern was stupid. You knew what you were doing You’d be fine. They needed to get over it. Nothing was going to happen to you. Until... it did. Then everything changed. For me, I’d never get in a car and causally drive, touch my phone, or take my eyes off the road. For Haegan, he’d never get that chance. It was over. Sometimes lessons are learned the hard way. Other times it isn’t a lesson. It’s a consequence. I had been spared. It had been a lesson for me. It seemed so fucking unfair that Haegan hadn’t gotten that lesson. That his had been the end. I walked into the school, and the hallway was quiet. That was expected with everyone in their first-period class. I didn’t want to face the office, but I couldn’t get into class without a tardy slip. The door, always propped open with a heavy cast-iron lion, had the breeze blowing through from the large box fan covered in dust. I walked inside, enjoying the cool breeze as a relief from the early morning heat outside. Mrs. Murphy was whispering with a concerned frown in the corner of the office with Mrs. Donna, the other secretary. They didn’t notice me. I waited at the counter for someone to look my way, but whatever they were talking about seemed to have them both very upset. I wasn’t in a hurry to get to class anyway. I would get questions, more sympathy, and people would talk. I’d ignore it, but they would still be talking. It would be annoying. Just something I’d have to get over. At least I was alive to get over it. That was the one thought that k ept coming back to me when I got annoyed or down the past week. Sure this was
a shit situation. But I was alive. It could have been me. “I just can’t believe Dace. He’s married. Has a baby girl.” Mrs. Murphy’s whisper was a little too loud this time. I strained to hear more. I didn’t like Dace, but I didn’t want something to be wrong with his family. Although he sure didn’t act married. The man didn’t even wear a ring. “I’m glad they’re not making her go in the same room as him. She’s a child,” Mrs. Murphy continued. “It’s a shame. I am just horrified.” Mrs. Donna looked over then and saw me. She quickly hushed Mrs. Murphy by pointing in my direction. Mrs. Murphy’s frown was still in place. “Oh, Nash, we are so glad you’re back. I’ve been praying for you. Are you doing okay with it all?” I could say a lot of things at that moment. About her prayers and how I was doing. But instead I did what my momma had raised me to do. Be polite. She didn’t want to know how I was really doing. She wanted to feel better about it all. She wanted her prayers to be working. So tonight, when she went to bed, she’d feel better about the tragedy and feel as if she did something to help. “Thank you, ma’am,” I r eplied. “I’m doing better.” She patted my hand. “Good. That was a terrible thing. A terrible, terrible thing. It’s never easy to lose a young life.” I nodded my head and k ept my mouth shut. I would much rather hear what Coach Dace had done. Anything to get the attention off of me. She signed a tardy slip and handed it to me. But when I tried to take it, she didn’t let go. “You were dating Tallulah, weren’t you? I know I saw y’all together.”
In all my four years of high school Mrs. Murphy had never asked about my dating life. This was odd. “Uh, yes, ma’am,” I r eplied. She’d also referred to me dating Tallulah in the past tense. Did that mean Tallulah was openly dating someone else? Was I going to be forced to watch her in the halls with another guy? Ryker had mentioned Brett, but damn that was fast. She gave me an apologetic frown. “Well, she’s had a hard morning. Might need a kind word when she returns to school.” “She’s not here?” I asked, needing more information than that. Mrs. Murphy’s frown tightened. Then she chewed on her bottom lip. “She’s here, but she won’t be coming back to class. Might want to go check on her after school.” I wasn’t happy with Tallulah. She’d fucking messed with my head. I thought I hated her. But I realized I didn’t because at the moment all I could be was concerned. Worried. I needed more information. “What’s wrong? Where is she?” “You need to go on to class, Nash,” Mrs. Donna said, st epping forward and touching Mrs. Murphy’s arm. “Best it’s not talked about.” Fuck that. She wasn’t going to worry me, then tell me nothing. “Is she okay? Did she get hurt?” Mrs. Murphy looked like she wanted to say more, but she looked at Mrs. Donna, who was shaking her head no with a stern expression. Dammit.
“Just go on to class,” Mrs. Donna r epeated. “Why can’t you tell me where she is?” I pushed. Mrs. Murphy opened her mouth to say something more when her eyes went to the door behind me. “I’m Charlotte Dace. Where is my husband?” the woman demanded. Mrs. Murphy walked around the counter. “Right this way,” she told her. Charlotte Dace was tall, thin, blond, had larger lips than was normal, and walked like someone who was in one of those beauty pageants. She followed behind Mrs. Murphy. I watched them go until the door to the principal’s office opened. Coach D st epped forward, and his eyes locked on his wife’s. They were scared. He was scared. “You sorry piece of shit!” she screamed. “Oh my,” Mrs. Donna whispered. The door closed behind them as Charlotte Dace slammed it shut. Mrs. Murphy turned to look at me, and her eyes were round with anxiety. I didn’t need an explanation anymore. I understood what was going on. Tallulah and Coach Dickhead had been caught.