I Wish You All the Best(11)

“They’ll start tomorrow.” Thomas is grinning, looking at everything on the counter.

I’m still looking through the things Hannah bought for me. “Thank you,” I say again. I don’t want to let go of any of it, scared that it might slip away from me at any moment.

“It’s no biggie.” She starts rubbing my shoulder again. “You’re going to be okay.”

I start nodding, and I really hope I’m not crying or anything.





“Ready for your first day?” Thomas asks me the next morning, mug of coffee already in hand.

“I guess.” I look around the kitchen. “Do you mind if I have a cup?”

“Oh, yeah.” He moves over to the cabinet and pulls out this mug that says “Donut Tell Me What to Do,” along with a picture of a half-eaten donut. “Creamer’s in the fridge.”

“Thanks.” I pour my cup slowly, savoring the smell of the coffee for a few seconds.

“Nervous?”

“A little.”

“You’ll be okay.” He chuckles. “Nathan’s a good kid, though I can’t really speak for his tour-guide abilities.” Thomas takes a sip from his mug, leaving this awkward silence. “You’ll need to go to the office first thing and get your schedule.”

“Okay.” I wonder what classes they’ll put me in. Hopefully the same ones I was taking at Wayne.

I also can’t help but wonder if any of my classmates back home will even realize I’m gone. I wasn’t exactly super popular there, and I didn’t really have anyone I could call a friend. But someone has to notice, right? At least my teachers. One of your students can’t vanish over Christmas break without you realizing it.

Thomas drives us to school with some local talk show blaring over the radio. He chuckles at a joke every few minutes, but other than that, he seems quiet. Until he isn’t.

“Hey, Ben.” Thomas turns down the radio.

I guess we could only go for so long.

“Yeah?” I say.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Hannah?”

Out of everything he could’ve asked, I wasn’t really expecting that. I also feel like he should already know the answer to that. “About ten years, why?”

“You don’t know much about her, do you?”

“Not anymore.”

“Did you even know we were married?”

“Kinda,” I say, and he waits for further explanation. “I found her on Facebook. Your wedding pictures were up there.”

“Oh, makes sense.”

“You said that Hannah talked about me a lot?”

“Yeah.” He laughs like he told a joke with himself. “She’d tell me stories about you two all the time, the trouble you’d get into.”

I don’t particularly remember getting into a lot of trouble with Hannah. Most of my memories of her involve loud music, slammed doors, yelling. Sometimes at Mom and Dad, sometimes at me, but okay I guess.

I want to ask Thomas if Hannah ever mentioned coming back for me, or even wanting to come back for me, but that feels like an inappropriate question for the brother-in-law you really just met.



My classes are almost exactly the same as they were at Wayne High: English 4, Chemistry Honors, Calculus Honors. The only difference is Art 4. I don’t really know what that is though. In Goldsboro we just had normal art classes.

North Wake has different lunch times too. They’re scheduled closer to actual lunch instead of being spread between ten and eleven thirty in the morning.

“You can just wait here for Nathan, I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Kev the secretary tells me. I wonder if his name is actually Kev, or if it’s just short for Kevin, or maybe something else? I take the same seat I had yesterday, still wishing that I had a phone to kill time with. Hannah promised me we’d go get a replacement this weekend.

For now, I’ll just have to settle for staring at the clock, awkwardly smiling at anyone walking into the office who I happen to lock eyes with, until Nathan finally gets here.

“There he is.”

He.

I try my best not to let my face show anything, because this is something I need to get used to. I wanted this. It’s simpler. And I can’t be mad at him for it.

Nathan claps his hands eagerly. “You ready for the grand tour?”

“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my backpack. Another Hannah purchase.

“Got your schedule yet?”

I hand him the folded piece of blue paper and listen to him read off the classes. “Nice, we have the same homeroom, and the same Chem class, so we’ll be in the same lunch period too!”

“Oh, nice.”

“Let’s start with English.” Nathan leads me down this sterile white hallway, with lockers against the walls that alternate between dark blue and a dull gold. “You’ve got Mrs. Williams. I had her last year and she’s tough, but if you do your best and need some extra credit at the end of the year, she’s usually good for it.” He points to the empty classroom, filled with desks; hopefully I won’t have trouble remembering which classroom is which.

There isn’t much to distinguish it from the others, save the “Room 303” marker above the door. I repeat the number in my head. 303, 303, 303.