Chapter Forty-Two
Of course you can have another berry. There’s plenty for everyone.”
A tiny plate, edged in pink roses, sits on a worn tree stump. I drop two red berries onto it.
“It is a beautiful day, isn’t it? Maybe we can—”
I shut my mouth, listening. “Did you hear that?” I whisper. It sounded like…
There it is again, an angry growl. Like a wounded animal. Except this animal is a boy with his fists clenched, howling at the treetops.
Careful not to be seen, I pick up my favorite friend and duck behind a tree, poking my head out far enough to see him.
He kicks the ground, sending a rock flying.
Tiptoeing to the next tree, slowly getting closer, I watch him pull at his hair and cry out again.
But he doesn’t sound as angry anymore. He sounds hurt… sad.
The boy topples to the ground as if his legs are made of spaghetti and buries his face in his arms with his knees pulled up tight. His back shakes, and I know he’s crying.
I am standing beside his tree now. He still doesn’t know I’m here.
Most people don’t notice me. Sometimes, I pretend to be invisible to see how long it takes before anyone pays attention.
I’ve gone a whole day before. Well, until my mom called me inside for dinner, but I don’t really count that.
Mom always sees, even when I wish I was really invisible.
Without touching him, I sit on the ground, pulling my legs up too. I hug them to me and rest my chin on top of my knee. I sit there while he cries. He cries for a long time, but I don’t move.
When he finally stops, I don’t look at him.
I remain perfectly still, like I’m a statue.
He sniffles and lets out a big breath of air.
Then he leans his shoulder against mine.
I glance over at him, only moving my eyes.
He leans against me more, like he might fall over.
I lean back because he’ll push me over if I don’t.
He’s bigger than me even though we’re the same age.
I slowly turn my head. His face is red from crying, and he has a bruise on his cheek. Maybe he’s just an angry boy. Right now, he seems more sad than angry.
His eyes find mine looking at him. They are dark like the dirt. And when they look in mine, it’s like he sees me—like he’d see me even if I were invisible. He doesn’t say anything. I wait, but he still doesn’t talk. Instead, he leans against me again.
I swallow. I’m a statue. Strong and solid for him to lean against. I offer him my hand without looking at him, and he takes it. His hand is hot and sweaty. Or maybe mine is cold and dry. We sit there and breathe for a very long time. Perfectly still, except for our lungs.
“Where are your friends?” I whisper.
“I don’t need any,” he grumbles, releasing my hand and crossing his arms.
“Everyone needs a friend.” I set my favorite next to him. She’s purple and fluffy. “Here, you can have one of mine. She’s the best cuddler. And has really great taste in jewelry.”
He looks down at her and fights a smile. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”
I don’t realize what he means at first. Then when I do, I laugh. She’s wearing a Ring Pop on her arm. He laughs too.
The boy picks her up and stands. “Thanks.”
“Sadie! Are you in the woods again?” my mother calls for me. I can hear her stomping on the leaves and branches. “Why can’t you play on the playground with everyone else?”
When I look for the boy, he’s gone.
Class of oh-five baby!” Danika hollers as we wait to line up for graduation.
“Why can’t it just be five?” Darcy taps a finger on her chin. We all pause to consider it. She shakes her head. “Nope. Doesn’t sound right.”
Our moms took pictures of us in our dresses in front of the high school with our backs to the camera, looking over our shoulders, each holding up a hand to represent the year: 2-0-0-5.
I stretch up onto my toes, searching the sea of caps and gowns for Jonathan. Collin comes bursting into the gym, out of breath.
“I’m here!” he declares, hands in the air. “Graduation may begin.”
“Where’s Jonathan?” I ask him. He looks confused. “Isn’t he with you?”
He shakes his head, scanning the graduates with me. “He left before I did. Said he forgot something and would meet me and Jane here. You haven’t seen him?”
I search his face, trying to determine if we should be worried.
“Are his mom and Ryan here?”
He shrugs.
An announcement quiets everyone and instructs us to line up.
Jonathan is supposed to be three spots behind me, Lyle Quincy and Kendra Randolf between us.
But he’s not there when I get in line. I’m still swiveling my head in search of him when we march out of the gymnasium and onto the football field.
My heart’s racing. This isn’t right. Not when we file in, find our seats, and his remains empty.
Not after listening to speech after speech about how bright our futures look, and his seat’s still empty.
I twist in my chair, searching. Then I’m standing before it’s time for our row to be called to the stage.
Not because Jonathan has finally arrived.
But because Hal Reeves is four rows back on the end, beside his wife and youngest son.
He notices me staring at him and tilts his head, as if taunting me, a twitch of his lips daring me.
Collin is standing too. We connect across the crowd. There’s a stir of murmurs when I slip out of my row, squeezing past my classmates. I kick off my shoes and sprint down the center aisle, my cap flying off my head, my gown fluttering behind me.
Collin races beside me to the parking lot, to where I parked in the back row when I arrived with the girls.
“Do you have your keys?” he’s asking, panting.
I yank the gown over my head and unzip the purse hanging across my chest. My hands are clumsy. I can’t find my breath. I can’t grasp the zipper.
Collin takes hold of my shoulders. I look into his hazel eyes through tears of panic.
“Breathe, Sadie. In. Out. Breathe.”
I nod, hearing Jonathan’s voice in my head. “Nice and easy.” And I focus on slow breaths until everything comes back into focus.
I unzip my bag and pull out the keys.
Collin extends his hand. “Want me to drive?”
“Get in the car,” I order, unlocking the doors and strapping into the driver’s seat. As much as it pains me, I ease out of the parking lot and pull onto the main street, driving carefully. Every cop in Hollis is here.
As soon as they disappear in the rearview mirror, my foot presses down on the gas pedal. Collin holds on to the handle above the door with one hand, and the other has his phone to his ear. He hangs up and calls again when he gets the robotic recording. Jonathan never personalized it.
We don’t speak. We can’t. There’s nothing to say.
“There!” Collin shouts, pointing to the other side of the road.
I almost pass the dark blue pickup, hidden in the trees. Smoke rises from the engine—that’s what caught Collin’s attention.
I pull over. And sprint across the street. No one comes or goes. The air feels as still as the forest. Silent and foreboding—like it knows what’s waiting for me.
The truck’s front bumper has careened into a tree. The damage is minimal. But it’s no longer running. The tick of the cooling engine feels like a timer counting down.
Collin opens the driver’s-side door. I cry out. “Jonathan!”
A tree has pinned the passenger side shut, so I step up into the cab on the driver’s side and lean over his slumped body. He’s sprawled across the seat. His head’s resting on the passenger side. I can’t see his face clearly.
“Jonathan.” I reach for him, jostling his shoulder. He doesn’t respond.
I maneuver over his legs and the gearshift to the passenger side, gripping the back of the seats for balance, and fold onto the floor in front of him.
“Jonathan? Can you hear me?” Before I reach for his shoulder to try to rouse him again, I notice the blood dripping onto my thigh. I lift the hand I set on the seat, and it’s covered red.
“Call an ambulance!” I scream.
I carefully reposition his left arm, which lies across his body, searching for the wound.
A purple blossom of blood stains his blue shirt along his right side, the material sticking to his skin.
There’s a slit in his shirt under his ribs.
I try to apply pressure with my hand to slow the bleeding, but I can’t do it properly at this angle.
His large body is too heavy. And I’m afraid to move him.
I search the cab and find his suit jacket on the seat above his head. Something falls to the floor as I grab it and roll it tight. I stuff it under his side and press as hard as I can.
He doesn’t move.
His face is pale.
His beautiful eyes remain closed.
“They’re on their way,” Collin tells me from the open door, the phone still to his ear. “Is he… breathing?”
“I… I don’t know.” It never occurred to me to check. Too focused on stopping the bleeding.
Collin leans over the top of him, his body filling the cab above us.
I’d know if he wasn’t. I’d feel it. And as hard as my heart’s beating, it isn’t shattered.
Sirens are faint. But they’re getting closer.
Collin crawls out of the cab and runs to the road, waving his hands—
“Stay with me,” I beg Jonathan. “Please. Stay with me.”
My hand presses harder against his side, slick with blood.
I wait for him to move. To not leave me behind.
But I’ve never felt more alone.