I Wish You All the Best(7)

So instead I make the bed, hoping it’ll give me enough of a distraction, maybe let my mind wander for a few good minutes. But it doesn’t really help, so when I’m done I walk downstairs.

“What’s up?” Hannah’s still at the washing machine, hidden behind these folding doors in the kitchen, basket of newly dried clothes in her hand.

I offer to take something, but she shakes her head. “I got it. Something wrong?”

“No. Do you have a computer I can use?”

“Sure.” Hannah leaves everything on top of the dryer and walks back into the kitchen and through another door. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to follow, but I do anyway.

Their living room is smaller than the one at home, but it looks lived in, comfortable. Hannah was always a bit on the messy side, but it seems like she’s found a nice middle ground now. Or maybe this is Thomas’s handiwork.

“Go ahead and set up your own account so you can log in to your texts and stuff.” Hannah grabs her laptop from its spot between the end table and the couch, disconnecting the charger. “If you have any questions, just ask, but I’m sure you know more about this thing than I do.”

“Thanks.” I take a seat on the huge couch. I’m already at home with the laptop, since it’s exactly like my old one. I type in my email address and password, so that I can read or respond to any texts I’ve gotten. There aren’t any yet, but Mariam is probably still asleep.

I still haven’t figured out exactly how I’m going to tell them about this. I almost log in to my Facebook, but I have to stop myself. Or actually, Thomas stops me.

“Ben?” he calls.

“Yeah?”

Thomas is dressed up more than he was at breakfast. Collared shirt with a dark gray sweater thrown over it and matching gray pants. “I talked with my principal. She said she wants to meet with you, get you enrolled.”

“Today?” I ask.

“If you’re okay with that. I’m not sure yet if we’ll need to go to your old school. They should be able to send over your records no problem.”

“Oh.”

“We don’t have to right now, but the sooner we do, the less you’ll miss.”

“No, I mean, that’s fine.” I glance down at my sweatpants. “Just, do you have anything else I can wear? I don’t think Hannah’s done with the laundry.”

Thomas chuckles and nods toward the stairs. “Come on.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting in Thomas’s car, wearing the still too-big shirt, jeans that are so long I have to roll them up three times, and socks that are slowly pooling around my ankles.

But it’s something at least. The hoodie Thomas gave me hides most of my discomfort, I think. And the shoes fit me, which must be some kind of miracle. Or maybe Thomas just has really small feet? He even says I can keep them.

“I can’t tell you the last time I wore them.”

“Thanks.” We pull out of the driveway and onto the road, and immediately everything is so awkward. What do I even say to this guy? What are we supposed to talk about? Would it be too awkward to ask him a bunch of questions? Eventually I spit out: “So why aren’t you at work today?”

Because that’s totally normal. Really hit it out of the park with that one, Ben.

“I called out when Hannah woke me up last night. Figured this was more important.”

“Oh.” I fiddle with the fraying hem of his hoodie. “What do you teach?”

“Chemistry.”

“That’s cool.” I wait a few seconds longer than I probably should. “I like chemistry.”

“It’s interesting, to say the least.” Thomas turns on his blinker. “I guess it’s weird that we’ve never really met.”

“Yeah.” I stare down at the shoes.

“Did your parents talk about your sister a lot? After she left?”

I shake my head. “They sort of had a no-talking-about-Hannah rule.” I pull another of the loose strings, balling it up in my fingers. “How long have you two been married?”

“Four years last September.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“Yeah.” Thomas sighs. “Hannah talks about you a lot. She’s really missed you.”

Thomas’s words sit sort of heavy in the air, and for a few seconds, there isn’t a word between us. “Yeah, I missed her too,” I add quietly.

I don’t think Thomas fully realizes what he’s said, not that there’s really any reason for him to.



North Wake High is definitely nicer than Wayne.

Wayne High was built in the sixties, with only slight updates here and there when needed. North Wake is all new, with floor-to-ceiling windows, and slanted roofs, and chrome. Even the parking lot is filled with shiny, expensive-looking cars.

Everything looks so bright and new and put together. Like everything here has a place and that’s exactly where it belongs. And I’m the extra piece that doesn’t fit in. Thomas pulls into the parking lot, parking near the front entrance of the school. “Here we are.”

I stare at the front doors of the school. Unmoving.

“You know we don’t have to do this, right?”

“Might as well get it over with,” I say quietly.