Chapters (95)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Video #1
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Video #2
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Video #3
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- The Final Video
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
In the distance, a group of guys is tossing a football around. It doesn’t really feel like fall yet. No cool weather. No frost. Chad and I walk in the direction of the football players, sticking near the trees that border campus. A couple holding hands passes us. A kid staring at his phone almost walks into us. Three girls talk animatedly but grow silent when they see us. Three sets of eyes trail toward Chad, and the bravest one says hello to him.
“Hey,” Chad says, before the kid and her friends walk past us, laughing and whispering.
I break the ice. It has to be me. I’m the one who fucked up.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t want to be a dick.”
“It’s cool. It’s a tough time.”
“Well, still. I shouldn’t…”
“It’s okay. I saw that note on your locker. I heard the announcement about the vigil. It’s a lot.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m still sorry.”
“We’re cool.”
My thanks stick in my throat. The branches and leaves on my right swing in the breeze. Someone lets out a triumphant yell on the football field, and one of the guys jumps around like he’s just won the Super Bowl.
“But I do want to tell you something,” Chad says. “About Chloe. About homecoming.”
Another word sticks in my throat. But I force it out. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He points to a weathered bench. I know what he means—we should sit. That’s how it is with Chad—he points or says one word, and everyone knows what he means. And they follow.
So we sit on the rickety bench and hope it doesn’t collapse under our weight. No one is around. The football game continues in the distance, but the jumping and yelling have stopped. We have about twenty minutes until classes resume.
Chad takes his time before speaking. Those few bites of peanut butter and jelly have settled in my gut like bricks. My mind goes in two directions. On one hand, I want to know what he has to tell me. On the other…
“This is why I came by your house when you were out of commission,” Chad says. “To tell you what happened on the night of the dance. Hannah saw Chloe crying in the bathroom. She was really upset about something. Hannah talked to her for a while and got her calmed down. Did you know that?”
I did but only because when the cops talked to me in the hospital, it was one of the things they asked me about over and over—did you know Chloe was crying in the bathroom on the night of homecoming? And I told them I didn’t know. Over and over.
Chloe almost never cried. Not at movies. Not at sappy songs. Not when we disagreed or fought. Pretty much never.