You've Reached Sam (21)

Oliver was also one of the people there at the bonfire that night. Maybe that’s what he wants to talk about. I’m not looking for a confrontation right now. I shut my locker. “I have to go.”

“But I was hoping you and I could talk, or something,” he says somewhat tensely.

“I don’t really have time right now. Sorry.” I walk off without saying anything else.

“Wait—just for a second?”

I keep walking.

“Please,” Oliver calls after me. Something sharp and wounded in his voice cuts me, making me stop. “Please…” he says again, almost desperately this time. “I don’t really have anyone else to talk to.”

I turn around slowly. The two of us stand there, looking at each other as people walk right past us. Now that I’m looking at him, I can read the pain in his face. He lost Sam, too. Except he isn’t connected to him like I am. I step toward Oliver, closing the distance between us, and whisper, “Is it about Sam?”

Oliver nods. “Nobody else gets it,” he says. Then he leans into me. “Why did it have to happen to him, you know?”

I touch his shoulder and feel how tense he is. Like he’s holding something in. Neither of us say any more because we don’t need to. For the first time, it’s like we understand each other.

“I know…” I say.

“I’m really glad you’re back,” Oliver says. “It was weird not having you around, either.” Then out of nowhere, he puts his arms around me and hugs me tight. The leather of his jacket is soft against my cheek. I usually shy away from this sort of affection, but for this occasion, I allow it. We both lost somebody we loved. After a moment, Oliver pulls away and readjusts his backpack. “Is it okay if I text you sometime? Just to talk?”

“Of course you can.”

Oliver smiles. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I watch him disappear down the hall. It almost feels like we just met for the first time. It’s too early to say if Oliver and I might be friends after all of this, but at the very least, maybe things will be different.



* * *



At home, I find my mother’s car in the driveway. She’s in the kitchen washing dishes as I make my way inside. As soon as I close the door, I hear the faucet shut off, followed by my mother’s voice.

“Julie?” she calls from the kitchen. Before I can answer, she storms down the hall with a look relief on her face. “Where have you been all day?”

I take off my jacket. “I was at school. I thought I told you yesterday.”

“But why didn’t you answer my messages?” she asks.

“What messages?”

“I texted you last night. I even called.”

“You called me?” I don’t remember waking up to any notifications. The only person I’ve spoken to since last night was Sam. I check my phone again. “Are you sure? I never got anything from you.”

I hand her my phone to see for herself.

“Of course I’m sure,” she says, scrolling through it. “That’s so bizarre. I definitely texted you. Do you think it’s your phone? I guess it could be mine.”

“Maybe it’s the service.”

“Maybe…” my mother says, thinking. She hands me back my phone. “You know, no matter how smart they try to make these things, they never work.” She lets out a long breath.

“I’m sorry to worry you.”

“It’s alright,” my mother says. “I’m just glad you’re fine.” She takes my jacket from me, and hangs it on a hook on the wall. “Thankfully I noticed your backpack was gone this morning, so I figured you were at school. How late did you come home last night?”

“Oh—” My eyes shift to the floor. She doesn’t realize I never came home at all. “Not too late…” I say.

“You know, I could have given you a ride this morning.”

“I don’t really mind the walk.” I turn toward the stairs.

“Wait.” My mother stops me. “How was school? Is everything okay?”

I pause on the first step. “It was … fine,” I say without turning around.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Maybe not this second. I’m a little tired.”

My mother nods. “Alright. You know I’m always here, Julie,” she says as I head upstairs. “But we should get your phone checked out soon! Mine, too, now that I’m thinking about it. I’ve had a suspicion that someone’s been trying to hack it. It’s probably been tapped. Then again—what isn’t these days … They’re probably recording everything we’re saying right now. Be careful!”

“I will!”

I shut the door behind me and look around the room. Everything’s exactly like I left it. I returned this morning from Sam’s house to change and grab my things before school. That’s why I was late to class. I didn’t mean to spend the night in his room, but I was so exhausted, and Sam told me it was okay. I haven’t spoken with him since then. I sit at the side of my bed, and take out my phone. We made plans to talk after school once I got home. I remember making him promise me he’d pick up again. Otherwise, I couldn’t fall asleep. I stare at the blank screen of my phone. While this rational part of me keeps thinking last night was all a dream, I look over and see his plaid shirt hanging on the back of my chair. On my desk is the other bookend he gave me last night. His Radiohead shirt is folded and tucked away in the middle drawer. I checked a second ago to make sure it was still there.