Every Last Word (33 page)

Emily rests her elbow on the back of the couch, props her head in her hand, and keeps talking. “I pretended to be happy because I knew it meant a lot to my dad, but now coming home from
school every day is absolute torture.” As soon as she says it, her eyes grow wide and her whole face turns bright red. She covers her mouth. “That sounded so horrible. I shouldn’t
have said that.”

I picture that cute house she lives in with the cheery paint and the rope swing, knowing that’s what her mom is staring at all day, and I can’t imagine how excruciating it must be
for Emily to walk through that blue door and see her mom lying there, slowly dying.

Emily turns away from me, shaking her head in disgust. “Jesus. What kind of person says that about her own mother?”

I’ve said those same
what-kind-of-person
words myself. They’re especially damaging, the kind of thing that can make a thought-spiral tornado unexpectedly change course,
shifting into an entirely new and even more destructive direction. My mom and Sue always have words that help, so I say them to Emily.

“A good person,” I tell her. She catches my eye and gives me a trace of a smile. “Someone who loves her mom and doesn’t want to see her in so much pain.”

She blows out a big breath like she’s air-drying her face. “Thank you,” she whispers toward the ceiling.

The idea comes out of nowhere, and before I give it a second thought, I start blurting. “Come over to my house after school today. We can talk. Or write. Or listen to music, and not talk,
and not write, and not think about anything bad at all.”

“I don’t know,” she says, looking down at the floor, picking at her fingernails. “My dad likes me to come straight home after school.”

I point at the phone next to her hip, screen facing up like it always is. “He’ll call if he needs you. I can have you there in ten minutes.” Emily looks like she’s
considering it. “You can even stay for dinner if you want to. My mom’s a horrible cook, so you’ll have to pretend to like the food, but my dad is, like, the king of small talk,
and my little sister can be kind of funny.”

I force myself to shut up because I can’t tell if all this family talk is making Emily feel better or worse. But then she looks over at me and says, “That sounds nice and…”
She pauses for a moment, as if she’s searching for the right word. “Normal.”

Normal.

She’s right. It does sound normal. My life might not be perfect and my brain might play tricks on me and I might be overwhelmed by my own thoughts, but now that I think about it, I’m
lucky to have as much
normal
as I do.

I look at Emily, wondering if I could do for her what Caroline did for me. Wondering if I could pay it forward.

I’ll gauge it, but if she comes over today and it seems like she wants to talk, I’ll ask her questions and listen—really listen, like Caroline listened to me—and keep her
talking until she has nothing left to say. If she wants to, I’ll help her write a happy poem about her mom. Something positive. Something she can read to her. And if the moment feels right
and she wants a change of subject, I’ll tell her my secrets. I’ll let her in on my OCD and Shrink-Sue and Caroline and the number three, and I’ll talk until she knows
everything.

Does she see it in my eyes right now, how much I want to be her friend? Because something shifts in her expression and her whole face lights up, more than I’ve ever seen it do before.
“Actually, I’d love that,” she says.

“Okay, who’s up first?” AJ asks from his spot in the front of the room.

I look around. Sydney’s got a wrapper in her hands, but aside from doing a little dance in her seat, she doesn’t move. Emily is still holding her napkin, but she doesn’t look
ready to go yet. Jessica and Cameron are holding papers in their hands too, but they don’t stand up and head for the stage either.

“I’ll go,” I say, and before I can think too much about it, I’m standing up, walking to the stage, sitting on the stool. I open my notebook to the right page. “I
wrote this on Tuesday in—”

As soon as I speak, my mouth goes dry. I take a deep breath, close my notebook on my lap, and look out into the group, letting my gaze settle on each one of them. I remember the first time I sat
up here, staring at these total strangers, feeling terrified about how much of myself I was about to expose.

Things are different now.

“I went through something last weekend,” I say. “And it made me realize it was no mistake that I wandered down here one day and found all of you. So before I read this poem, I
just want to say thank you for letting me stay, even though I probably didn’t deserve it and some of you didn’t think I belonged.”

My notebook is still closed on my lap. I don’t open it. I don’t need to. I know these words by heart.

“I wrote this in Poet’s Corner.”

I bring my left hand to my shoulder, exactly where Caroline’s was the first time I sat on this stool and read aloud. My eyes fall shut.

The room is completely silent. Then everyone starts clapping and whistling, and I open my eyes to find AJ standing up, glue stick ready to launch. I give him one of his trademark chin tilts and
he sends it flying. I catch it in midair.

It feels good to rip this poem out of the notebook, and even better to cover the paper with glue. I march to the back of the room, and I find a sliver of empty space on the wall near the hidden
door. “Thank you, Caroline,” I whisper as I bring the page to my lips. Then I press it against the wall, running my hand over the words, securing them in place.

Back on stage, Sydney clears her throat dramatically. “Most of you have already heard this tasty treat, but since some of you missed it because you were dealing with ‘car
trouble,’” she says with air quotes, locking eyes with AJ, then with me. “I thought I’d read it again.”

I sit next to AJ this time, and he wraps his arms around my waist. I recline against his chest and he rests his chin on my shoulder.

Sydney unfolds a paper In-N-Out hat and positions it on her head. Then she launches into a dramatic reading about the secret menu. She praises the Flying Dutchman and the 2x4, makes us hungry
with her descriptions of special sauces and spices and grilled onions, and leaves us mystified about the people who order “cold cheese.” When she finishes her poem, she passes out paper
In-N-Out hats to all of us.

We’re all still wearing them as we file out the door. Everyone heads into the hallway, but AJ hangs back.

“What’s the matter?” I ask him.

“Your call, but I’m wondering if that poem of yours is in the right home.” He hands me a glue stick.

He has a point.

I step back inside, remove the page from the wall, and apply a fresh coat of glue to the back. Then I walk over to Caroline’s Corner and find a new spot, right next to her collection.

“Much better,” he says as he anchors my hat on my head.

AJ grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs, back into the real world.

M
y legs feel wobbly and I’m sure everyone is staring at me as I cross the cafeteria. Alexis and Kaitlyn are on one side of the table;
Hailey and Olivia are on the other.

Alexis sees me first. She elbows Kaitlyn and whispers something in her ear. I keep taking brave steps across the room, Sue’s voice in my head, reminding me to hold on to the people who
make me stronger and better, and let go of the ones who don’t. Holding on to the Poets was easy. Letting go of the Eights is already proving to be harder than I expected.

“Can I talk to you guys?” I’m asking all of them, but for some reason, I direct the question to Alexis.

“Of course,” she replies, scooting down, making room next to her. “Where have you been? We haven’t seen you all week.”

“We were worried,” Kaitlyn says. I must look skeptical because she adds, “Really. We were. In fact, I went to your locker a bunch of times looking for you.”

“Why?” I ask.

“I wanted to apologize.”

I’m still not sure I believe her. If she wanted to apologize so badly, she could have tried a lot harder to find me. She hasn’t texted me once in seven days.

I catch Hailey giving her a stern look. Kaitlyn sits up straighter and leans in closer to me. “I’m glad you’re here, because I’ve been meaning to talk to you. What I said
last week wasn’t funny. I was out of line and I’m sorry. I hope you’ll accept my apology, Sam.”

Wait. Did she call me Sam?

I look at Hailey’s smug expression, thinking about the conversation we had in my room last Sunday, and I start to realize what’s happening. Hailey’s been rallying for me from
the inside. She doesn’t want me to leave. She’s convinced them to apologize and start calling me Sam from now on. Then this will all be over. And everything can go back to the way it
was.

Am I really such a great friend that they can’t stand to lose me? Or are they merely trying to save face? I’d like to think it’s the former—that I’ve been
overreacting all these years and they really are true friends who love me for exactly who I am—but I’m not completely sure.

Kaitlyn takes a sip of her soda, and then turns to Alexis. “Did you tell her about this weekend?”

Alexis looks around to be sure no one can hear her, and then she rests her forearms on the table and lowers her voice. “My parents are going out of town. I can’t have another party,
because if they catch me again, they’ll take my car away. So we’re keeping it small.”

“All the guys are coming over,” Olivia pipes in, pointing around the cafeteria as she identifies them. “Travis, Jeremy, Kurt…We still need someone for Hailey. And you
can bring AJ, okay? So we can get to know him better.”

I’m tempted. I don’t want to be, but I am. I’ve been mentally preparing myself to part ways with the Eights all week, but now I’m not so sure I want to leave them behind
so completely.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I can have both. Now that I think about it, AJ might like being pulled into my circle. I’ve never even asked him. I picture all of us sitting around Alexis’s
living room, talking late into the night, everyone getting to know the side of AJ most people don’t get to see and…Wait. What did Olivia just say?

I turn back to Kaitlyn. “You’re seeing Kurt?” For a split second, she looks a little embarrassed, but she quickly recovers. She cocks her head to one side. “Yeah. We sort
of bumped into each other at a party last weekend and got back together.”

Got
back
together? I’d hardly call making out with my boyfriend in a coat-check room while I was fifty feet away “together.” But I’m glad she told me. For a
minute, I almost forgot why I came over here today.

“I need to say something to you guys.” The mood shifts instantly. Alexis folds her arms across her chest. Kaitlyn stares at me, eyebrows raised. Olivia bites her lip and fixes her
gaze on the table. Hailey brings her hand to her forehead.

“We’ve been best friends since we were little kids, and there are so many reasons for that. We’ve always had so much fun together. All of my very best memories include you
guys.” I’m speaking slowly and clearly, exactly the way Sue coached me. I feel my hands shaking, but I take a deep breath and keep talking. “But we’ve also changed a lot
over the years. And I think that’s a good thing. I think we’re supposed to change, and when we do, that has to be okay. I’ve changed over the last few months, and I like the
person I’m becoming.”

“And who is that?” Olivia asks.

“That’s the thing,” I say with a shrug. “I’m not sure. The truth is, I don’t really know who I am without you guys. But I think I need to find out.”

It doesn’t come out exactly the way Sue and I practiced, but it’s close and I followed all the rules. I intentionally don’t mention AJ or any of my other friends downstairs,
and I’m careful with my words so they don’t think I’m blaming them or anything. We’re growing apart. It’s time to part ways.

“Did your new boyfriend put you up to this?” Olivia asks.

“He sounds a little possessive,” Kaitlyn says to her, as if I’m not sitting right here.

“Stop it,” Hailey interjects. “Now.” I feel her hand on my shoulder and it catches me completely off guard. “I’m not doing this. Not again.”

I know what she means. We all do. She’s not going to let them treat me the way we all treated Sarah. And I realize that no matter what happens today, Hailey now knows which side
she’s on, and it’s mine.

“She’s right,” Alexis says. “You’re our friend. We love you. You should do what makes you happy.”