You've Reached Sam (30)

“Remind me, did you model back home in Thailand?” I ask.

Jay angles his face toward the ceiling light, eyes smoldering. “Is it obvious?”

“Your cheekbones.”

We planned to meet Yuki outside for lunch today. Rachel won’t be joining us. She’s been trying to help start an Asian Student Club with some friends, and they need twenty-five signatures by next week. Jay told me they’re having a tough time getting people to join.

There’s a table set up at the end of the hallway. Rachel is sitting with her friend Konomi, talking with a few seniors who have crowded around them. When I notice Taylor and Liam are there, my skin prickles.

Liam picks up one of the flyers. “So none of us can sign up? Says here Asian students only.”

“It doesn’t say that,” Rachel says.

Taylor tilts her head a little, pretending to look interested. “So what are the requirements?”

“We don’t have requirements,” Rachel answers. “Anyone can join.”

“Then why call it the Asian Student Club?” Taylor says, pointing at the table sign. “That doesn’t sound very inclusive. What do you guys even do?”

“Probably wasting school money to watch anime.” Liam laughs.

My cheeks burn. Sam would speak up if he was around. But he isn’t anymore. Would he want me to say something? Stand up for Rachel? As I stand there, wondering what to do, Jay walks right up to the table.

“What’s the problem?”

Liam shoots him a look. “Who said we had a problem?”

“If you’re not interested in the club, you don’t have to join,” Jay says. “No need to make fun of it.”

Taylor folds her arms. “Ever heard of a joke?”

“No one was even talking to you,” Liam says. He straightens himself, as if to intimidate Jay into backing up. But Jay just stands there, keeping his cool. Before this can escalate further, I finally appear between them, hoping to defuse this.

“You know, your jokes aren’t that funny,” I say to Liam. “Why don’t you guys leave them alone? Stop wasting everyone’s time.”

Liam exchanges a look with Taylor before he turns back to me. “Are we bothering your friends? The only ones at school who talk to you? At least they speak English, so that’s something.”

“You’re an asshole,” I nearly shout.

His eyes narrow at me. “At least I showed up to my friend’s funeral. Then again, I didn’t have anything to do with his death.”

A chill goes through me. I don’t even know what to say back. I just stand there, trying not to let the shock show on my face. Taylor shakes her head before turning away. Before they walk off, Liam grabs a handful of candy from a bowl on the table and stuffs it in his pocket.

“Later.”

Once they’re down the hall I let out a heavy breath and turn to the table.

“You alright, Rachel?” I ask.

“No worries.” Rachel smiles as if nothing’s really wrong, as if what they said didn’t bother her. It’s a smile I’ll never be able to understand. “What about you?” she asks me back. “Are you alright?”

I don’t have an answer for her. I take the signup sheet and write my name down.



* * *



The day doesn’t get better. I can’t seem to pay attention in any of my classes. Every time I stare at the clock, I think it stops, making the day feel longer. I scribble on notebook paper and stare out the window to get time moving again but it doesn’t work. Nobody takes the seat beside me. I pretend not to notice. My teachers drone on, and I don’t hear a word they’re saying. All I can think about is Sam. I wish I could talk to him right now. But we made plans not to call until later tonight, so I’ll have to wait. As I’m sitting in the back of English class, something occurs to me. I wonder why I haven’t thought of it before. I take my phone out and send him a text, telling him I miss him.

The message fails.

I try to send another one, which also can’t be delivered. That’s strange. I’ll have to ask him about this later.

The bell rings, relieving me from a long lecture on Oliver Twist. As the class begins packing up, Mr. Gill, our English teacher, says something that makes my body jolt.

“… and remember, if you haven’t already—make sure you hand in your papers to me before you leave.”

Papers? A cold douse of shock pours over me as I remember the comparative assignment between Hamlet and Gatsby that I haven’t thought about in weeks. It was due last Wednesday, but Mr. Gill gave the class extra time to get it done because of what happened. Because of Sam. He sent us several email reminders about it, yet somehow I still forgot. To Mr. Gill, turning in late work is an offensive crime that could lead to failing the class.

As everybody files out, I don’t know what to do but approach his desk, even though I have no words prepared. So I cut out the small talk and jump to the point.

“Mr. Gill, I’m so sorry, I actually don’t have the paper right now,” I say.

“And why is that?”

“I don’t really have an excuse. I’ve just been distracted with everything.”

He picks up the stack of papers and evens it out on the desk in front of me. “You’re right. That isn’t an excuse.”