The walls around us are papered with flyers talking about dances and tryouts and all the normal crap, but I see the other ones too—the ones talking about grief groups and counselors and how to deal with life after death. I want to tear them all off the walls and throw them in the toilet and flush them far, far away from here—from me. Rose-Brady made me go to one of those grief groups last year, before Carter closed, but that didn’t turn out so well. At all. So now I see a private therapist. Who tells me shit like It gets better. I used to have to see her multiple times a week—luckily, since last fall I’ve managed to avoid going outside of the once-a-month sessions that Rose-Brady and the school board made known were a requirement to even consider my reenrollment.

“Chim. Please stop. It’s fine; you know it’s fine. Now that I’m back you cannot start tiptoeing around me. You know I hate that shit.” More accurately, I hate having to have conversations with people whose eyes are so full of pity, who don’t see me anymore, just a reflection of Jordan’s ghost.

Chim, who never used to get embarrassed by her big mouth around me, blushes an even deeper shade of red. It’s impressive.

“No, I really am sorry. I have to start thinking before I speak; my mom keeps telling me that. I’m always saying stupid stuff, and I know I need to be more sensitive around you….” She’s babbling, all nerves and tongue flaps, and my chest tightens. We’ve known each other since kindergarten—she was my first real friend outside of Jordan, actually—but ever since last year it’s been hard for me to stomach the sight of her. It’s not fair, I know that, but it’s like I just can’t let myself relax when I’m with her—we can’t seem to find the rhythm of our friendship since Jordan died.

We reach her locker, and she’s still talking. I am so tempted to slap her to get her to just shut up (am I really supposed to just stand here and listen to this incessant chatter?), when a warm hand clasps my arm.

“Ladies.” I turn, and there she is—my savior, Lucy, the only person I want to see these days; the only person who seems to be able to see me through the haze of what happened last year. She smirks like she knows exactly what I was just thinking—knows that she stopped me from smacking Chim across her lovely, annoying face.