Tease(79)

“Oh my God, Tyler did Dylan a favor. He did everyone a favor,” Brielle says. “I don’t know how they all missed the skank memo, but now they know. But Tyler wanting to hang out with Emma now? I really don’t think so.”

The bell rings and Alison races away, throwing us a little wave but looking relieved at the same time. Noelle and Brielle roll their eyes at each other, and Brielle says, “Back stairwell?”

“Yep. Be there in ten,” Noelle replies.

I wait for them to explain what they’re talking about, but Brielle just raises her eyebrows at me. “Don’t worry about the D Train,” she says. “I don’t think he and Emma were really doing it, so if you really want him back, he’s probably syphilis-free.”

“Unless you have it,” Noelle says, and they both laugh again.

I smile as if I think it’s funny too, but like Alison, I’m kind of happy to be getting away from them and going to my own homeroom. For one wild second I wonder what it would be like not to be friends with Brielle anymore—not to get teased like that all the time, not to always be her best punchline. But that’s crazy. Brielle’s been my best friend forever. We have so much fun, we’re so close. I watch her walk away with Noelle and remember it’s not my choice, anyway. If Brielle wants to hang out with you, she does.

And if she doesn’t, you walk to homeroom alone.

Nothing really happens for the rest of the day. Right before gym I pass Principal Schoen in the hallway and I remember the meeting my parents are coming in for on Wednesday. Jesus, I keep forgetting about that. My stomach lurches. Why didn’t I think to call in sick today too? I feel sick all the time.

Emma isn’t in gym class, and I have Brielle to myself, so we spend the whole time trying to avoid playing any basketball. Turns out if you go to the far end of the gym and pretend to play H-O-R-S-E, you can pretty much just stand there and no one cares.

Emma’s not in history, either. It finally occurs to me that she might be with Dylan. I can’t remember the last time I saw her, or saw them together. The weekend is starting to feel like I dreamed it. That night in Dylan’s car might as well have happened a hundred years ago.

But it still hurts. That part feels pretty damn fresh in my mind.

I pick up the boys after school and we go to Taco Bell again, this time with an actual ten-dollar bill I got from my mom that morning. The sun still hasn’t set by the time we get home, but the sky is turning pink, and Tommy actually stops for a minute to look at it when we get out of the car.

“It’s pretty, right?” I say, leaning against the Honda next to him. Alex has already run inside, excited to have first dibs on the Wii.

He wrinkles his nose—the boys hate even the word pretty, much less the idea that they might think anything is—but he goes, “Yeah, it’s cool.”

“I used to think that kind of sunset was good luck,” I tell him. I’d forgotten all about it until the words pop out, but it’s true—when I was little I decided a pink sunset meant, I dunno, that the pony I wanted for Christmas would actually show up, or whatever.

“Is it? Good luck?” he asks me.

“Oh, I don’t know . . . I think I just made that up. But maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he says.

We stand there for a few more minutes, just long enough that the sky starts turning grayer, darker. Without either of us having to say anything, we turn and walk into the house together, where it’s warm and light and smells like the popcorn Alex put in the microwave.

I find out the next morning.

Everyone’s standing outside school, not going in. It’s cold and windy and the sun isn’t shining, but it looks like the entire school is huddled together on the sidewalk.

I drove myself because Brielle didn’t want to shuttle my brothers today, so as soon as I park I pull out my phone and look for a text from her. There’s nothing, which actually worries me more. But who knows, maybe there was just another fake bomb threat. Like the time that weird guy Carmichael supposedly called one in. We got the day off, and nothing actually happened, so I kind of hope that’s it.

I see Brielle’s SUV pulling in at the other end of the lot, so I wait by my car, assuming she’ll park near me. But she doesn’t—she pulls into the first empty space, kind of crooked. I start walking toward her. She and Noelle both jump out, and they both look kind of panicked—but I don’t know, maybe it’s just because I’m already panicked, so that’s how everyone looks to me.

When I’m closer I wave, and they definitely see me, but they don’t wave back. We meet about halfway, next to this, like, red Nissan. I think, That’s such an ugly car, and then Brielle says:

“Emma Putnam killed herself last night.”

And then there’s just nothing.

Not nothing. There’s an assembly. They don’t let us into school—the doors are locked, that’s why everyone’s outside—until after eight thirty. They make us sit in the gym because the auditorium isn’t big enough for the entire school to sit down. They use a lot of words like tragedy and counselors and process, like, “We want to help you process this.”

“What a stupid, stupid bitch,” Brielle says under her breath. No one hears her but me, so no one knows why I’m nodding. But I can’t say anything back. Across the gym, about five rows up on the bleachers, I can see Dylan. He’s got his face in his hands. I can’t tell if he’s crying, but he keeps his head down the whole time.