I BLOW OFF FIRST AND SECOND PERIOD, AND MR. Turnshek, the school safety officer, finally catches me during third. I’m smoking a cigarette underneath the stairs, where I found Mary ditching a test that one time. I was hoping she would be here. I came to school early this morning and waited for her at her locker. I wanted to hear her excuse for why she never called me or stopped by my house. By this time, she has to know that Rennie’s dead.
But Mary never showed.
Mr. Turnshek looks at me, aghast.
“I know, I know,” I say, letting go of the smoke in my lungs before standing up. “Principal’s office.” I put the cigarette out on the wall. It leaves an ashy circle on the cinder block.
I’ve been going through nearly two packs a day since Rennie died. I can’t even taste my food anymore, and the skin between my pointer and middle fingers is starting to turn yellow. I know it’s bad; I should quit before I really get addicted. I tell myself that anyway, right before each cig I light up.
“You’d better believe it, DeBrassio,” Turnshek says, his arms folded.
I guess part of me wanted to get caught. I don’t know. This whole day has annoyed me. Everyone mourning, crying over Rennie. Everyone with arms around each other. It’s like the whole school is propping each other up. Except no one’s doing that for me. Most of the underclassmen don’t even know that Rennie and I used to be best friends back in the day. They assume that I don’t care that she’s dead.
Or worse, that I’m happy.
I nearly lost it when I overheard one freshman cheerleader bitch mutter something under her breath when I passed her in the hall. I spun around and walked straight up to her, put my nose up to hers, and dared her to say whatever it was to my face. She practically crapped her designer jeans.
I shouldn’t expect that dummy to understand what I’m going through. But Lillia and Mary—they know my history with Rennie. Just because we weren’t friends for the last few years of high school doesn’t mean that her death isn’t freaking ripping me apart. It doesn’t mean that I don’t need to talk shit out, have a good cry. After all, I was the last person to see Rennie alive. And at the end we were on good terms.
Not like her and Lillia.
I’ve texted Lil a bunch of times, but she hasn’t written back once. She’s probably been camped out at Rennie’s condo with the rest of that crew, drying each other’s tears. Either that or she feels guilty because I know that she left with Reeve that night. I’m trying not to think this way, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she quit talking to me. Actually, she should keep a low profile. People must be wondering why the hell Rennie left her own damn party in the first place. If they found out why, shit would surely hit the fan.
I just hope Mary doesn’t know. But her knowing is the only reason I can come up with to explain the fact that Mary has basically gone MIA on me too. I was so desperate for someone to talk to, I even drove by her house a couple of times. I never stopped, though. As much as I wanted to, I wasn’t ready to answer questions about Reeve and Lillia. That’s on Lillia.
Mr. Turnshek writes up a pink slip and sends me to the principal’s office. But instead of walking there, I go see Ms. Chirazo.
The five guidance counselors are huddled around the coffeepot. They made an announcement over the loudspeaker today, inviting anyone who needed grief counseling to come down. But the office is empty.
Ms. Chirazo spots me and steps away from the group. The rest of them give me dirty looks over their mugs. They know me as a troublemaker, I guess. But Ms. Chirazo never looks at me that way.
“Kat. Is everything okay?”
I hold up the pink slip. “I just got busted for smoking in the hallway.”
“Oh, Kat. Why? I thought we were going to be on our best behavior, at least until we heard back from Oberlin.”
I shrug my shoulders, because whatever. At this point I don’t care if I get expelled. What’s done is done. Picking at my nails, I say, “I used to be Rennie’s best friend. For, like, my whole life. Until high school started, anyway. And then we hated each other.” I realize that I’m gritting my teeth while I say it. Probably because I can’t make sense of the idea that Rennie Holtz, who was always larger than life, was reduced to a pile of ashes in a fucking tacky-ass vase.
“I didn’t know that.”
“So it’s like most people don’t care how I’m doing, you know? How I might be handling this. And the truth is, I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I mean, should I be a hard-ass and pretend like it doesn’t bother me? Should I scream in their smug faces that I was way closer to Rennie than any of them ever were? It’s like a disgusting competition of who knew her best. And people think I’m last, when I should be in fucking first place.” I glance around, and my eyes land on a vase full of dried flowers on the corner of the secretary’s desk. I have the overwhelming urge to swat it off. I make a fist and bite down on it hard.
Ms. Chirazo seems to notice. A second later her hand is on my back, and she’s pushing me into her office and closing the door.
“Kat, forget what other people think. You don’t have anything to prove.” She points at her door. “There’s a reason why there are no students in this office today. People want to grieve with their friends, people who understand the connection, who don’t need to be brought up to speed. You should surround yourself with the friends who know you best.”
“I’ve tried that. My friends both blew me off.”
“Then try again,” she says matter-of-factly. “When you lost your mother, you were completely unreachable. It took time. It took people not giving up on you.”
I move my eyes to the birds flying past her window. I wonder how long it will be until I feel normal again. When Mom died, I was depressed for an entire year.
Ms. Chirazo stands up. “I’m going to go talk to Principal Tortola and see if I can’t get him to excuse your lapse in judgment in light of current circumstances. In the meantime, sit here for as long as you like. The secretary will write you a pass when you’re ready to go back to class.”
I don’t wait long. Just enough to scribble a note for Mary.
Yo. When you get this, find me.
I miss you. Hope you’re okay.
—K
I’ve just slipped the note inside Mary’s locker when I notice that it’s missing its padlock.
I open the door, hoping to see her jacket hanging inside, but the thing is freaking cleaned out. Not, like, the way some nerds do so they’re neat and organized at the beginning of a semester. It’s completely empty. Just my folded-up piece of notebook paper at the bottom.
I can think of two possibilities. Either Mary switched lockers or she switched schools.
No. There’s no way she left Jar Island without telling us. Even if she did find out about Reeve and Lillia, she wouldn’t dick out on me and not say good-bye. She knows I care about her. She knows I’m her friend.
At least, I hope she does.
