Every Last Word (14 page)

“Hey,” Olivia says excitedly. “I want to come to one of your meets. I’ve never seen you race.” She glances around the circle. “Have you guys?” They all
shake their heads.

No. I can’t let them watch me swim. When I’m in the pool, I’m as close to Summer Sam as I get.

“Actually…please don’t. I know it sounds weird, but it’s kind of
my
thing.”

Kaitlyn lets out a huff, affronted. “You compete in front of huge groups of people all the time. Why would it bother you if we came to a meet?”

I don’t have a good answer at the ready, so I tell them the truth. “I don’t know. Complete strangers watching me race is one thing. You guys are different. That would make me
totally nervous.” I laugh to deflect the impact of their glares, but the sound that comes out of my mouth doesn’t sound like a laugh at all.

“We’re your best friends,” Alexis says. I can’t tell from her tone of voice if she’s offended or simply pointing out a fact. “Why would you be nervous around
us
?”

It’s an excellent question. One I ask myself all the time.

Before I can answer, Hailey jumps in. “It’s okay,” she says. “We understand.”

“We do?” Kaitlyn asks. Her tone isn’t hard to gauge at all.

“It’s Samantha’s thing.” I look over at Hailey and silently thank her.

“I still don’t get it,” Alexis says. “But whatever. Have fun swimming at lunch. Alone.”

We go back to eating, and I’m relieved to have that conversation behind me. I start thinking about next Monday, mentally pumping myself up to read my poem in front of the group.

“So, did you guys hear about tomorrow night?” Alexis asks. “Big party.”

“Where?” Hailey asks.

“Kurt Frasier’s.” My head snaps up.

Kaitlyn glares at her. “You have
got
to be kidding. I am
not
going to that asshole’s house.”

“And I am?” I add.

Kaitlyn reaches over and grabs my hand in solidarity. I pull it away.

“Oh, please. You’re not still mad about that, are you?” she asks. “I told you.
He
kissed
me
.”

“Kaitlyn, we are not talking about this again.” I say it firmly, and she must hear the weight in my voice because she lets out a heavy sigh and drops the subject.

Kurt and I had been together for two months when we went to winter formal last year. He said he was going to get a drink, and twenty minutes later, when I went looking for him, I found him
hooking up with Kaitlyn in the coat-check room.

The two of them didn’t last long. A few weeks later, he and Olivia got together at a party. It started to look like he intended to work his way through all five of us and was just getting
started. I thought we’d collectively agreed that none of us would ever speak to him again. How could Alexis even
suggest
going to his house?

Alexis looks at Kaitlyn, and then at me. “Look, the guy’s a douche, but he’s a douche with a keg and an empty house, and that’s where everyone’s going tomorrow
night.” She turns her attention to Hailey and Olivia. “I’m going. You guys?”

“I’m in,” Olivia chirps. When Kaitlyn shoots her a nasty look, she adds, “What? He has a nice house. I bet his parents’ liquor cabinet is top shelf.”

Hailey seems to want my approval, because she peeks over at me. I shrug and look away. “Yeah, sure,” she finally says.

“Okay, fine. I’ll go,” Kaitlyn says. And then she looks at me. “Samantha?”

“I’m not going.” It feels good to say it so definitively. Maybe I’ll invite Caroline over.

T
he side entrance to the theater is unlocked. I hurry down the center aisle, climb the stairs to the stage, and slide in next to the piano,
quietly listening for sounds on the other side of the curtain. When I hear footsteps, I duck inside.

They’ve already passed by, but Caroline’s at the back of the group, and when she sees me, the biggest smile spreads across her face. I smile back as she grabs my arm, pulls me into
the pack, and presses her finger to her lips.

Sydney is directly in front of us, walking next to the girl with the super curly hair. They both turn around and wave, but no one says a word as we make our way down the stairs, through the gray
hallway labyrinth, and into the janitor’s closet.

It’s so quiet down here. I’m sure everyone can hear me breathing the way Shrink-Sue taught me to: in through the nose, out through the mouth. Caroline must be able to tell I’m
nervous because she squeezes my wrist.

AJ holds the door open and we all file in. Everyone gathers at the back of the room. As soon as they hear the dead bolt click into place, the silence disappears and the energy level shifts
completely.

The curly blond one says her name is Chelsea. Next to her, the girl with the dark shoulder-length hair and the tiny silver nose ring says, “I’m glad you’re here. I’m
Emily.”

“Hi,” I say. “Thanks.” My palms are sweaty and my heart’s pounding, but it feels similar to that moment before I dive off the blocks, so I’m pretty sure
it’s positive adrenaline and not the first sign of a panic attack.

“I’m Jessica.” The thin girl with the long black braids raises her hand and whispers, “Welcome.”

There’s only one other guy. He’s short, stocky, and wearing a
North Valley High Wrestling
tee, so I assume that’s Cameron, AJ’s partner in
large-furniture-relocation crime. He adjusts his glasses and waves at me.

I greet Abigail by name and tell her it’s nice to see her again, and she surprises me by pulling me into a tight hug. When she lets me go, Sydney throws one arm over my shoulder and shows
everyone our matching letter
S
pendants.

Caroline stands there, beaming as if this whole moment is going exactly the way she pictured it, and AJ gives me that casual chin tilt of his and says, “You don’t have to read right
away today. Listen first, okay?”

“What makes you think I’d just jump up on stage and start reading?” I ask sarcastically, and they laugh.

AJ smiles at me. Then he addresses the group. “We’d better get started.” He takes off for the front of the room and plops down on that orange couch he loves so much.

Everyone trails behind him and settles into various spots on the mismatched furniture, but I hang back, giving myself a moment to reacquaint myself with the room.

The walls look a little bit different now. The colors are brighter, the textures richer. Even the penmanship feels personal, almost intimate, like all these words on all these scraps of paper
are here especially for me. I’ve read these poems now. I know these authors. We all share a secret, and it makes me feel small, in a good way, like I’m part of something
bigger—something powerful and magical and so special it can’t be explained. I breathe it all in, appreciating everything about these walls, especially their chaos.

AJ’s standing on the stage now with his arms crossed, and I realize he’s watching me, waiting for me to take a seat.

Sydney calls me over, so I sit next to her. I start feeling edgy, but I remind myself that I don’t have to read right away. I should listen first. Listen and clap. That’s it.

Listen. Clap. And breathe.

I turn around and find Caroline on the couch behind me. She gives me a thumbs-up.

Chelsea takes her seat on the stool. Some of the others are wearing dramatic eye shadow, and a few have visible tattoos and piercings, but not Chelsea. Like Caroline, she’s not wearing any
makeup at all, and for a moment, I picture what I could do with a little bit of blush and some lip gloss. Maybe some product to shape her curls into well-defined ringlets, and a headband to pull
them away from her face.

Then I catch myself.

“I wrote this in my car last week.” Everyone’s quiet while Chelsea unfolds a slip of paper. “This is called ‘Over You.’”

We’re all silent for a minute. No one moves. No one claps.

Only a minute ago I was sitting here, planning Chelsea’s makeover, and now I’m staring at her, filled with a strange mix of sadness and jealousy. She had all that? I’m sad for
her, but I can’t help but feel a little bit sad for myself, too. I want that. She lost it, but at least she
had
it.

“Hello? Glue stick?” The room erupts into applause, and Sydney stands and tosses her the glue. I’m clapping along, but I’m also watching Chelsea, wondering if she’s
going to cry after that cathartic reading. She doesn’t. She throws her shoulders back as she steps proudly off the stage.

“Okay!” I hear the voice at the front of the room and find Abigail bouncing in place, shaking out her arms by her sides. “I still get a little nervous up here,” she says,
and it surprises me. Abigail doesn’t seem like the type to get nervous. Then I remember she told me she was the newest one in the group. She runs her hands over her dark pixie cut and looks
down at the paper in her hands. “I wrote this in science class last week.”

She holds up a ripped scrap of graph paper, sits on the stool, and takes a couple of deep breaths, like she’s readying herself.

“This is called ‘As If,’” she says, and she shakes out her arms again. When she starts to read, I can see the paper trembling in her hands.

I’m the first to start clapping. I can’t help it. That was totally unexpected.

Sydney hands me a glue stick. “Want to do the honors?” she asks. I take it from her, beaming as I toss it underhand to Abigail.

I glance around, wondering who’s next. There doesn’t seem to be any assigned order or anything, and I’m waiting for the next person, ready to watch them be brave. Abigail
sticks her poem to the back wall, and then returns to the stage as Cameron and Jessica jump up from their seats to join her.

Jessica walks to the edge. She’s wearing a tank top, and when she turns, I spot a small tattoo on the back of her right shoulder. When she greeted me at the door, she was so soft-spoken
that I assumed she was really shy, but now she’s full of energy, and when she opens her mouth to speak, a loud, authoritative voice emerges.