She looked around the table, smirking, as if it were full of people who would agree with her. I was a bit heartened to see that Kelsi, Cody, and Mindy were staring stonily back at her. I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, there was a deep voice from the direction of the doorway.
“I don’t think it’s silly at all.”
We all turned to see who had come in unannounced. I practically fell out of my chair. Sam was standing by the hostess stand, his Red Sox cap pulled low over his forehead.
“Hey,” he said, looking directly at me. My heart was pounding, and my cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Um, thanks for saying that. But, um, what are you doing here? This is a group for people who have lost a parent.”
Sam nodded slowly. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”
I was confused. I stared at him for a minute, uncomprehending.
“My dad,” Sam said. He cleared his throat. “I lost my dad.”
chapter 12
I
couldn’t believe it.
“Oh,” I said. My cheeks grew even warmer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Suddenly, the conversation in the car came flooding back to me. Sam telling me he knew how I felt. Me getting defensive and mad. I felt a little sick.
Sam glanced at Sydney. “At my old school, everyone was weird to me. After they found out about my dad. I didn’t want to have to deal with it with a whole new group of people when I moved here, you know?”
I knew exactly what he meant.
“I was trying to tell you,” he said, looking straight at me. “That’s what I was trying to say to you that day in the car.”
“Oh.” I swallowed hard.
“What happened, man?” Cody asked. “If it’s cool for me to ask.”
“A stroke,” Sam said. “He had a stroke.”
Sydney seemed to have been shamed into silence. The rest of us mumbled words of apology.
“Was it recent?” I asked. “With your dad?”
“Yeah,” he said in a barely audible voice. “It was a few months ago. He just …” Sam paused, like he wasn’t quite sure what to say next. He took a deep breath. “He was fine, you know? And then all of a sudden he wasn’t. It was like something just went wrong in his face, like something short-circuited, you know, like a light that flickers all weird or something.”
“You were with him?” Cody asked.
Sam nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I kept asking him what he was doing. I thought for a minute maybe he was joking, you know. But then I knew he wasn’t. And I called nine-one-one.”
Silence settled over us again.
“So, um, do you want to sit down?” I asked, clearing my throat.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “I do.”
Logan glanced at Sydney again and then back at me.
• • •
Sydney left about five minutes after Sam joined the group. To my surprise, although he remained largely unresponsive, Logan stayed.
In the next hour, with me sort of leading the group, we talked a bit about our parents who had died, a little about what it was like with a whole new family dynamic, and what it was like when everyone at school treated you like a weirdo. But mostly, we just talked, awkwardly at first but then more like friends.
I learned all sorts of things I didn’t know about people. Kelsi wanted to try out for softball this spring; Mindy had done gymnastics until her mom got sick and had even competed twice at the state level. Cody had just gotten a job at the local movie theater, tearing tickets, and he was thinking about signing up for the army next year, despite what had happened to his dad.
There were a million things I wanted to ask Sam, like when his dad had died and why his family had moved to Plymouth or how he seemed so much better adjusted. But unlike the rest of the group, he didn’t seem to be volunteering any information. And I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. So I didn’t say anything.
A few minutes later, after we had complained a little more about therapists and other adults who thought they knew exactly how we were supposed to feel, Cody looked at his watch and stood up. “I gotta go,” he said. “My shift at the movie theater starts at four-thirty.”
I checked my watch too. It was almost four. I couldn’t believe we’d been talking for that long. It felt like just minutes ago that Sam had made his surprise appearance.
“Yeah, I guess we should get home,” I said, glancing at Logan. I took a deep breath. “I am so glad all of you came today. I wasn’t really sure how this would go. But I wanted, I don’t know, a place for us to feel normal, you know?”
“A place for weirdos like us,” Cody said. I thought for a split second that he was making fun of me until he winked and smiled.
“Yeah, weirdos like us,” Mindy echoed. “I like that.”
We all laughed.
“So, should we do this again?” I ventured after a moment. “Next week maybe?” I held my breath.
Kelsi and Mindy exchanged glances. Cody shrugged. Logan didn’t reply. But Sam was nodding enthusiastically.
“Yeah,” he said. “I like that idea. Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said, glancing around.
“Yeah,” Kelsi said. “That’d be cool, I guess.”
“Okay,” Mindy said.
“Whatever,” Cody said. We all turned to Logan.
“I guess,” he mumbled, looking down.
I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. This was really going to work.
“Can I make a suggestion, though?” Sam asked. “What if we met somewhere else?”
“Like where?” Kelsi asked.
Sam smiled. “What if we went bowling?”
“Bowling?” Logan repeated.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Why not? My aunt Donna owns Lucky Strikes Lanes over off Main. I bet she’ll give us a big discount. Or maybe she’ll even let us bowl free.”
“That sounds cool,” Cody said.
I looked at the girls. I was worried that bowling would sound dorky and they wouldn’t want to go. But they both nodded.
“Okay,” Kelsi said.
I looked at Logan. He seemed annoyed, but he shrugged. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered.
I turned back to Sam and smiled. “That sounds like a good idea. So next Tuesday, then? A week from today?”
Everyone nodded.
“If anyone needs a ride, maybe we can just meet in the parking lot after school,” Sam said. “I drive a Cherokee. I can fit a bunch of people.”
“Okay, next Tuesday it is,” I said. “And guys?”
Everyone looked at me, expectant. I paused.
“Thanks,” I said finally. “Really. Thanks.”
No one said anything for a minute. Then Mindy said softly, “Well, thanks for setting this up. It’s nice to be someplace where you don’t feel like a weirdo. Where you can feel like you did …”
Her voice trailed off. I knew exactly what she meant. But it was Kelsi who put it into words.
“Before,” she filled in, her voice soft. “Where you can feel like you did before everything changed.”
I beamed. This felt like the most important thing I had ever done. I was helping people.
“Thanks for coming,” I said quietly.
And then, with a bunch of mumbled goodbyes, everyone went their separate ways. Sam glanced back and smiled at me as he walked out the door, but he didn’t wait or ask if I needed a ride. A wall had gone up between us, and I’d been the one to put it there, all because I’d assumed that he was just like everyone else.
• • •
That night, Mom tried to get us to talk about the meeting, and I told her a little bit about it. Logan was strangely quiet, muttering only yes or no to Mom’s questions. Tanner, as usual, pushed his food around on his plate and was silent. I felt a knot starting to form in my stomach as I looked around the table at my silent little brother, my sad-eyed mother, and grumpy Logan. For the millionth time, I missed Dad so much I could feel the pain in my chest.
After dinner, everyone shut themselves away in their rooms, even Mom. It made it feel like we were living in four separate little universes.
I did my trig homework at the dining room table, puzzling over one particularly complicated cosine problem. Then, closing my books, I walked upstairs and knocked on Logan’s door.
“What?” he barked.
“It’s me,” I said. “Can I come in?”
There was a moment of silence. “Whatever.”
I hadn’t been in Logan’s room in a while, and I was struck by how unfamiliar it felt. He had the same blue and green bedspread, of course, and the same white blinds that were a little bent on the lower right side. But he had taken down the surfing posters he used to have on his walls. In their place, he had a big collage made out of pictures of him and Sydney, with little hearts drawn all over it. Sydney had made it, of course, but I couldn’t believe he had actually put it up.
He was sitting at his desk, shoulders slumped, staring at the bright screen of his computer. He had his history textbook spread in front of him and a few IM windows open.
“I, um, just wanted to say thanks for coming today,” I said. I stood awkwardly in the doorway for a minute, then I crossed the room and sat on his bed. Logan sighed, typed a few things into the IM windows, and then turned around to look at me.
“Thanks,” I continued after a pause. “For staying. After Sydney left, I mean.”
“Yeah, well, now she’s pissed at me,” Logan said.
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t want to say that I was sorry, because I wasn’t. “Well, maybe she shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”
Evidently, this was the wrong thing to say.
“Who are you to tell my girlfriend where she can and can’t go?” Logan exploded.
“I’m not trying to do that,” I said defensively.
“Whatever,” Logan said bitterly. “You made her feel so uncomfortable. And now she’s mad at
me.”
“Logan, I didn’t do anything to make her feel uncomfortable,” I said. “She got all defensive. Remember?”
“Yeah, well,” Logan said. But he didn’t continue.
We sat in silence. Then all of a sudden, Logan blurted out, “What’s the point, anyways?”
I was startled. “The point of what?”
“Of your stupid club?” Logan asked. “What, like it’s supposed to make us feel better?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought it might help. I thought today went well.”
“Yeah, for you, maybe,” he said.
I stared at him.
“You know, you say you hate that we feel different from everyone else,” he said. “But then you start some group that makes us feel even
more
different.”
“It’s not supposed to make us feel like that,” I protested. “It’s supposed to give us a place to just feel normal.”
“It’s all about you, isn’t it?” he said, an edge of bitterness creeping into his voice.
I couldn’t understand why he’d say something like that. Everything I did these days was for other people. I worried about Mom. I tried to get Tanner to talk. I put up with Logan’s stupid girlfriend just to keep the peace. “What are you talking about?” I asked.
Logan rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, you’ve been Saint Lacey since Dad died,” he said. “But don’t you ever get sick of being good? I mean, don’t you just want to get pissed off at the world sometimes?”
“No,” I said. How would that help?
Logan made a face. “Yeah, well,
I
don’t always want to be perfect, you know? And Sydney doesn’t want me to be.”
He gazed at me triumphantly, like the fact that he had a “supportive” girlfriend was the answer to everything.
I stared at him for a minute. “How does Sydney even
know
what she wants, anyhow? She’s so joined at the hip with you that I think you two are sharing a brain.”
“Shut up, Lacey,” he said. “You don’t know everything.”
I stood up. “Sometimes I don’t think you know anything at all.”
“You can’t bring him back, you know,” Logan said. “You can’t bring anyone’s parents back or make things like they were before. And it’s stupid to try.”
I stormed out of his room, slamming the door behind me. I went into my room, slamming that door too, and collapsed on my bed.
I waited for a minute, figuring that Mom would come to see what the problem was. After all, I was sure that the slamming doors could probably be heard down the block, especially since our house was so silent these days.
But she never came. And Logan didn’t come to apologize. Instead, the loneliness settled down on me like a fog, and I lay slowly back on my bed, soaking in the silence.
chapter 13
A
fter our Saturday-afternoon appointment with Dr. Schiff, Mom, Logan, and Tanner had once again shut themselves away in their rooms. Feeling lonely and bored, I called Jennica.
“Want to go to the mall or something?” I asked. Silence. Then, “I’m busy, Lacey.”
“With Brian?” I ventured.
“Not exactly,” she replied. More awkward silence. Then she said, “Look. I found out on Thursday that my dad’s getting remarried, okay? And things are just a little weird around here. I don’t really feel like going to the mall.”
I was stunned. “Your dad’s getting remarried? To Leanne?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t know it was that serious,” I said.
“Yeah, well,” Jennica said. I could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Lacey.”
I wondered what she meant. “But … why didn’t you tell me?”
Jennica was silent for a minute. “I guess I didn’t really expect you to understand.”
“What?” Jennica and I talked about everything. Or at least we used to.
“Well, it’s not like he’s dead or anything,” Jennica said. “I mean, you’re always going on and on about how your life is so different because your dad died.”
“I never talk about it,” I interjected, surprised. I really didn’t.
“Yeah, well,” Jennica said. “I guess I just didn’t expect you to take my problem that seriously.”
“You’re my best friend,” I said. “Of course I’d take your problem seriously.”
“Be honest,” she said. “You think my thing is so much less important than yours, don’t you?”
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to say yes, of course. No matter how sad she was, at least her dad was still alive. She still got to see him sometimes. Her whole world hadn’t been shattered. Not the way mine had been. But I knew she didn’t see it that way. And I knew that admitting that would be the wrong thing to say. “Um,” I said instead.
She made a muffled sound. “Like I said. Don’t worry about it, Lacey.”
And then, for the first time in our friendship, Jennica hung up without saying goodbye.
I sat down at the kitchen table and put my head in my hands. Jennica was mad at me. Logan barely talked to me. My mom was trying to put on a happy face, but she avoided the house and her kids as much as she could. And then there was Tanner.
I walked upstairs and knocked lightly on Tanner’s door. He didn’t reply, so I knocked again. “Tanner?” I called out. “Can I come in?”
I waited a minute, and hearing no reply, I pushed open the door.
The shades were drawn and the room was dark, even in the middle of the afternoon. The lamp beside Tanner’s bed was on, but he was crouched in the shadows next to McGee’s cage.
“Hey, buddy,” I said. I crossed the room and knelt beside him. “How’s it going?”
Tanner was staring into the cage like his life depended on it, his concentration entirely fixed. I glanced into the cage to see what McGee was doing.
Except McGee wasn’t there. I bent my head to look inside his little plastic cave. No McGee. Nor was he on the hamster wheel. And the cage was small, only a few feet long and a few feet tall.
“Tanner?” I asked, starting to feel alarmed. “Where’s McGee?”
Without looking at me, he raised his right arm and pointed toward the window.
“He’s over by the window?” I asked. Tanner shook his head.
I struggled to figure out what he meant. “He’s outside?” That didn’t make sense. “You let him outside?” But Tanner shook his head again. And then I noticed a tear roll down his right cheek. He blinked quickly and wiped it away as he went on staring at the empty cage.
Suddenly, I got it. “Tanner?” I asked. “Did McGee die?”
Tanner nodded once, still without looking at me. “Oh, Tanner,” I breathed, blinking back tears. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Tanner kept staring at the cage.
“Tanner, where is he?” I glanced toward the window. “Did you bury him out back?” Tanner nodded again.
I swallowed hard. “Well, come on,” I said resolutely. “McGee needs a proper funeral.”
Tanner finally looked up at me, surprise playing across his face. “A funeral?”
An hour later, I had helped Tanner make a little cross-shaped headstone out of Popsicle sticks and glue. With a thin Sharpie he wrote “Good Bye McGee” on the horizontal sticks and drew a little picture of the hamster. While he drew, I downloaded “Amazing Grace”—the song that had played for much of our dad’s funeral—on my iPod and grabbed my portable speakers from my room. Then, I got Mom and Logan and told them we needed to do something in the backyard.
Mom was mystified at first, but her face crumpled when I told her what had happened. She excused herself, and I could hear muffled sobs coming from her bathroom. Logan, on the other hand, just rolled his eyes.
“You’re making me come outside for a
hamster’s
funeral?” he demanded.
I glared at him. “No, I’m making you come outside to be supportive of our brother.”
Looking annoyed, he got up and followed me downstairs, grumbling under his breath.
A few minutes later, we all stood under the old, arching oak tree in the left corner of the backyard, where Tanner had buried McGee. With a solemn look on his face, Tanner carefully stuck his Popsicle-stick cross in the ground and secured it with a pile of little pebbles. Then he stood up and pushed play on my iPod. The strains of “Amazing Grace” drifted through the yard, and as we all stood in silence, clustered around the tiny grave, the song and the solemnity of the moment reminded me uncomfortably of Dad’s funeral. I gulped.
“Do you want to say a few words in McGee’s honor?” I asked my little brother.
“Lacey,” my mom said, “you know he doesn’t like to talk. Don’t push him.”
But Tanner surprised us all by turning to face us and clearing his throat. “McGee was my friend,” he began. I turned the iPod down a little. “He always understood me. He didn’t try to make me talk. But he listened if I wanted to talk.”
We stared at him. He hadn’t spoken this much at a stretch since last November.
“He was just there for me,” Tanner went on. He looked at the ground. “He was fun to play with. And I never had to talk about Dad or about being sad with him.” He paused. “Thank you for coming to the funeral.” Then before any of us could respond, he walked quickly away, toward the house. We stood and watched him in shocked silence until he disappeared into the house, pushing the door closed behind him.
• • •
After Tanner disappeared into the house, Mom went back to cleaning the kitchen, as if all her meticulous scrubbing and organizing could restore order to our lives, too. Sydney came and picked up Logan, who left without a word to any of us. And as our house fell silent again, I knew I had to get out.
I changed into running shorts, a sports bra, and a long-sleeved T-shirt and laced up the running shoes I hadn’t put on in nearly a year. I used to love running, but I hadn’t gone out once since the accident. At first, it was because my leg had been broken. But then, after it healed and after the doctors told me I should try to ease back into my normal routine, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Running made my leg ache, a dull, throbbing pain in the two places where the bone had been crushed. And the last thing I needed was a physical reminder of the accident.
But today, I wanted to feel it. I wanted to hurt. I wanted to feel
something
. And so I pulled my hair back in a ponytail, plugged earbuds into my iPod, and left the house without saying goodbye.
Evening was approaching, and with it, cooler temperatures. I shivered as I stretched in the driveway, but I knew that I’d warm up as I ran. I took off down the street, no particular route in mind. I pulled up Star Beck’s latest album, the one she’d written herself, on my iPod, and let myself slip into the music as my feet pounded the pavement.
My leg ached, as I knew it would, every time my left foot hit the ground. I tried to imagine the exact places my femur had broken, tried to imagine the bone shattering as our car crumpled around us. It seemed unfair that my leg would be able to heal almost entirely, while my dad’s injuries had stolen him in a matter of seconds. In a way, it was comforting that my leg still hurt, and I found myself wishing that it would ache more, as if hanging on to the pain of that day would give me a do-over.
I avoided, as I always did, the intersection where the accident had happened. It used to be part of my jogging route, but now I went the other way, winding deeper into our subdivision. I ran back toward the cranberry bogs, which were awash in red, ripe fruit. It was harvesting season, and even as the sunlight waned, I could see a few men in hip boots in what appeared to be a brick-colored sea, raking floating cranberries into containers. My dad had harvested cranberries as a side job when he was putting himself through college. I tried to imagine him out there with the other men, but I couldn’t fix the image in my head. I used to be able to close my eyes and see the outline of his face so clearly, but now he had all but disappeared.
I turned away from the bogs. I ran along the main road for a little while, then dipped into the next neighborhood. Jennica lived here, and I ran by her house, not sure what I was intending to do or say. But the lights were all off, and her mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Perhaps she and her mother and sister had gone out to dinner, like a normal family.
I ran on. My leg still ached, but the pain felt like a companion now instead of a burden. I was running with it, not against it. I turned down a street I hadn’t been on before and noticed, way off at the end, a guy in a long-sleeved gray tee, a baseball cap, and running shorts mowing the lawn of a big house that sat a little way up a hill. As I ran toward it, I thought about what an insurmountable task it seemed like with the push mower he was moving around the enormous yard. My feet took me closer, and just as I was about to pass by the house and loop down another street, the guy mowing the lawn turned, and I realized with a start that I knew him.
It was Sam.
I stopped in my tracks without meaning to, and our eyes met. He stared for a moment and then shut off the mower.
“Lacey?” he yelled down the lawn a little uncertainly. “Um, hi,” I said. I took my earbuds out and glanced around, unsure of what to do. I was suddenly conscious of how I must look. I was drenched in sweat, my hair was frizzing out of my ponytail, and I didn’t have any makeup on, which meant that the two pimples on my chin were probably staring right at Sam, in all their angry red glory.
As Sam made his way down the lawn, I was surprised to see a tattoo on his left calf. I couldn’t help staring. It was a Celtic claddagh, a pair of hands clasping a heart with a crown on top. My dad had the exact same one. I knew it meant love, friendship, and loyalty. My mother’s wedding ring had the same design on it too, and my dad had once explained to me that it meant he had married his best friend, the woman he loved most in the world, and someone he’d be loyal to forever.
“You have a tattoo,” I said.
“What?” He looked surprised and glanced down at his leg. “Oh. Yeah. I got it after my dad …” His voice trailed off. He looked down, then he smiled at me. “I thought my mom was going to kill me when I came home with it. The guy at the tattoo place thought I was eighteen.”
I smiled. “My dad got a claddagh tattoo too. On his arm. He got it when he and my mom got married.”
“Oh yeah?” Sam said. “That’s cool.”
We stood there awkwardly for a minute. “So,” Sam finally said. “What are you doing here?”
I could feel the color rise to my cheeks. I probably looked like I was stalking him. “I was just going for a run,” I said, and added hastily, “I had no idea you lived down here.”
Sam glanced back at the house. “I’d invite you in, but my mom’s sort of freaking out right now. My little brother just gave her his report card, and he failed English. They’re screaming at each other. That’s why I came out to mow the lawn.”
“You have a brother?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Joey. He’s eight.” He paused. “Is it just you and Logan?”
“I have another brother too,” I said. “Tanner.” I paused and added, “He’s eleven. He doesn’t talk very much anymore. Since the accident.”
“It’s crazy how much things change, isn’t it?” Sam said. “You know, after.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. I suddenly wanted to change the subject. I glanced up at the lawn. “So you mow this whole thing by yourself?”
Sam laughed. “Yeah, it’s crazy,” he said. “Our old house had a much smaller yard, so it was a lot easier. But you know, I don’t really mind. It’s kind of nice to have a reason to be outside.”
“I know,” I said. Silence settled over us.
“So the other day was really cool,” Sam said after a minute. “I mean, I think it was a really good idea.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
Sam took off his cap raked a hand through his hair, getting a few tufts of grass stuck in his thick, dark strands. “Hey, could I run with you for a little while?”
“You want to run with me?”
He shrugged. “If that’s cool,” he said. “I used to run track at my old school. My dad was the coach, actually.” A shadow flickered over his face.
“Sure,” I said. “I haven’t run in a while, though.” I paused. “Not since the accident, actually. So I’m not very fast.”
“Good,” Sam said. “Then you’ll be easy to beat when I race you.”
I laughed. He pushed the mower back up to the house and then jogged back down the driveway.
“You’re not going to change clothes?” I asked.
He glanced down at his grass-stained sneakers, his faded running shorts, and his sweaty shirt. “Nah,” he said.
We set off at a slow jog, and until we reached the end of the block, neither of us said a word. I was conscious of the silence between us and of my pounding heart, which was pumping blood so loudly that I feared Sam could hear it too. It wasn’t until we were at the end of the street that Sam spoke.
“So do you have a boyfriend?” he asked.
Startled, I looked up at him. “Um, no,” I said. I cleared my throat and focused on my pace. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Nah,” he said. He paused and added, “I had one at my old school. But that was a while ago.”