I’ve been eating lunch in Mr. Dover’s classroom ever since school started after break. He usually just works on his computer but once in a while he’ll pull out his lunch and eat with me. We talk about random stuff like homework assignments and what books we’ve been reading. It’s been nice having somewhere to go instead of the lunchroom but I still really miss Violet. Jordyn, not as much, but I even miss her a little.

Mr. Dover says I should try and talk to them again but I don’t know. I don’t think having friends should be this much work. I mean, I know it takes work to be a good friend but it shouldn’t hurt this much.

I told Mr. Dover that being friends with Jordyn and Violet was just too much work and I came this close to telling him about Joseph and how easy it was to talk to someone over the computer. But of course I didn’t say anything because if I did that Mr. Dover would probably call my parents, or worse, call the police.

Before I left his room today, Mr. Dover told me not to give up on friendship, that it’s worth it to invest in other people. He also said that if I wanted someone to talk to, he’d always be there for me. He told me to keep my chin up. I’m trying, I said.

Then he grabbed a sticky note, started writing something on it. “I usually don’t do this,” he said, handing the piece of paper to me. It was a phone number. “Call me if you need to talk. Anytime,” he said. “And how about not saying anything to anybody about this. The administration frowns—” and Mr. Dover made a silly sad face when he said this “—on teachers sharing their personal phone numbers.”

Then he gave me a hug and told me to get to class.

Dr. Madeline Gideon September 14, 2018

Dr. Madeline Gideon

September 14, 2018

At the time I thought it would be helpful to Cora and Violet that I was able to talk to each of them about their experiences in the train yard. I thought it would help shed some light on the events of the night. At first I wondered about the wisdom of this and even ran it by one of my colleagues. He assured me as long as I didn’t share any of what Violet or Cora disclosed to the other, it would be fine.

When I arrived for my next session with Cora it was to find her sitting up in the reclining chair in her room. She was still attached to an IV; a fleece tie blanket was draped over her legs. “You’re up,” I said in surprise. “How does it feel?” I asked, pulling up a chair so that we were sitting knee to knee.