You'd Be Home Now (26)

“Nothing, if you’re a B student. But when you’re an A student and suddenly become a B student, colleges will notice that.”

Then it’s just her mouth moving and me watching her mouth move.

I know things are hard.

Because of your brother.

Because of Candy.

That’s such a difficult thing.

But we don’t want you to lose sight of your grades.

Your work.

You’ve worked so hard.

Such a bright future.

Promising.

I nod, nod, nod. Like I’m a bobblehead, incessantly and stupidly agreeing.

Because everything is finefinefine.



* * *



—

    I’ve made it through three classes so far, keeping my head down mostly, but there were still whispers. Madison and Jesse from dance team were in Chem, but when they saw me come into the lab, they angled their heads away and pretended to be busy.

Lunchtime is a very particular beast, though.

The cafeteria is kind of like the hallway ocean: you have to identify the different species and their specific habitats. One species cannot encroach on another’s habitat without fear of reprisal or death. Dance team there, baseball team there, footballers there, artsy kids over there, and so on.

I scan for an open seat without trying to land on anyone’s face, skimming bodies for potential threat points. Then I see a seat, in the back.

There are certain species in the ocean that have yet to be discovered, and in cafeteria-land, those unidentifiable, mysterious creatures live in the back, in the semidarkness, beneath the wall with no windows, and that’s where I go.

The open seat is by Jeremy Leonard, Luther’s brother. Unkempt hair, head bent low over the table, reading a comic book, fingers moving along the paper. His black-rimmed glasses are sliding down his nose. Sack of Doritos and a Gatorade.

I walk along the wall so I can avoid the center aisles between tables, but I still hear them.

There she is

Oh damn is she limping, she get hurt

Saw her bro in GovPol dude looked freaked out

“Can I sit here?”

Jeremy Leonard looks up, pushes his glasses up his nose. “Emory. Yeah, sure.”

I slide onto the bench across from him.

    Jeremy goes back to his comic book. I make the mistake of looking around and meet Tasha’s eyes.

She’s sitting with the dance team across the cafeteria, wearing a red sleeveless top that shows off her broad shoulders. The corners of her mouth turn down slightly, but not in a mean way. More of a resigned way. She was always nice to me, even when the other girls on the team got frustrated. Madison and Mary and Jesse avoid my eyes.

Tasha shrugs, ever so slightly, so the other girls don’t notice. I think about what Joey said. It is what it is.

I pull the Tupperware of carrots and hummus from my backpack, moving the carrots around with my finger. I used to really like playing Lincoln Logs when I was little; I could do that for hours, stacking and restacking them into wobbly little houses. I start making a tiny carrot log cabin. My phone buzzes. Joey.

This sucks, he texts.

Agreed, I text back.

Jeremy glances up at me.

A carrot on top of my house teeters and falls on the table. Jeremy restacks it for me. His nails are dirty. I remember, suddenly, my mother and father talking in the den after she’d dropped Luther back at home when he’d stayed the night at our house one time. “That boy comes from hard people,” she murmured.

“It’s bad,” Jeremy says quietly. “This stuff. You know?”

“Yes,” I say. “Very much so.”

We look at each other.

When we were thirteen, our brothers got hauled in to the police station for getting high down at Frost River. Not the part where the people are living now, which is under the bridge, but closer to town, where there are picnic benches and grills for happy families on Sundays. My mom and dad took me with them to the Leonards’ house and Jeremy and I sat in his basement, which had a Ping-Pong table and beanbag chairs and a big TV with an old plaid sofa in front of it. We played Minecraft and ate Cheetos and drank Sprite for hours while our parents drank wine and bourbon upstairs and complained about how awful our brothers were and how it would do them good to stay at the station until morning. “Scare the pants off them, that’s for sure,” Mr. Leonard bellowed. I didn’t like him much. He seemed loud and cruel and I could understand why Luther preferred our house to his. Jeremy and I even fell asleep on the couch together, watching some movie about a mermaid who washes up in Manhattan. I’d never really hung out with him before, even though we were the same age and went to school together. After my mom came downstairs to tell me it was time to go, Jeremy said, “Sorry if I drooled on you. When we were sleeping.” He looked embarrassed.

    What I remember most is how comfortable it felt, gradually falling asleep on the couch, Jeremy’s head falling on my shoulder. I wonder if he remembers that.

“Do you still have that Ping-Pong table?” I ask.

Jeremy shakes his head. “My parents sold it. A long time ago.”

“We never had anything fun like that in my house. My mom was always afraid we’d break something. I was jealous.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”