I feel my insides start to collapse on themselves as I imagine Anne and Rose-Brady sitting in this office, talking about me. Saying that I’m pathetic. That I can’t handle anything. Well, screw them. I’m sure if Jordan were still alive, he’d be in here, helping to plan these events. Helping Anne organize.

I swallow hard and interrupt her. “I do.” My voice is gritty. It sounds like I haven’t talked for days.

Rose-Brady pauses. “You do?”

I nod. “I’ll help. I’ll participate. What do you want me to do?”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Are you sure you’re up to it? If you are, maybe you could give a short speech that day, talk about Jordan?” She smiles, a warm smile that makes me want to break in two. “I think it’ll be good for you, getting involved with other survivors. It might help you heal.”

I want to run out of her office and down the hall and keep going until I reach the ocean. But instead, I nod.

She’s looking at me with raised eyebrows and I realize I’m supposed to respond.

“Okay.”

She gives me a long look. “Okay. Well.” She pauses. “I’m really happy to hear this. When I spoke with Dr. McMillen yesterday, we agreed that getting involved in these memorials could be very beneficial to you, but we would never force you. This had to be a decision that came from you.”

I take a deep breath. What did I just agree to? Why do I keep doing this to myself, over and over?

“Great.”

“Great! One thing—per the school board, we need to approve everyone’s speeches for that day. Make sure they’re appropriate. I’m sure you understand.”

I nod.

Rose-Brady smiles like we’ve just had a great chat, and I press my lips together tight to stop myself from screaming.

Chapter Forty

After I finally get out of that stupid meeting with Rose-Brady, I’m lingering by my locker, trying to delay going home as long as I possibly can. Last year, I was always busy after school: jazz band practice, choir, vocal ensemble committee meetings. These days, afternoons are empty spaces that try to gobble me alive. Usually I deal with it because I’d rather be at home than anywhere else, but this afternoon I don’t want to face what I might find in the mail.

I’m so deep in my own swirling thoughts that I don’t notice Zach walk up behind me. When he taps me on the shoulder, I jump out of my skin.

“Oh, man, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was trying to catch you before you left. What are you doing?” He leans against the locker next to mine.