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Back The Lucky Ones
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-one
  25. Chapter Twenty-two
  26. Chapter Twenty-three
  27. Chapter Twenty-four
  28. Chapter Twenty-five
  29. Chapter Twenty-six
  30. Chapter Twenty-seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-one
  35. Chapter Thirty-two
  36. Chapter Thirty-three
  37. Chapter Thirty-four
  38. Chapter Thirty-five
  39. Chapter Thirty-six
  40. Chapter Thirty-seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-one
  45. Chapter Forty-two
  46. The Letter
  47. Chapter Forty-three
  48. Chapter Forty-four
  49. Chapter Forty-five
  50. Chapter Forty-six
  51. Chapter Forty-seven
  52. Chapter Forty-eight
  53. Chapter Forty-nine
  54. Chapter Fifty
  55. Chapter Fifty-one
  56. Chapter Fifty-two
  57. Chapter Fifty-three
  58. Author’s Note
  59. Resources
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. What’s next onyour reading list?

Jordan was upstairs in his room listening to music, this M83 song he was obsessed with, and the absolute last thing I wanted was to go invite him to come with me and have him watch me like a hawk at the party, be judged for drinking too much, and be forced to leave early because he was bored.

I couldn’t stand the thought of it. Of his face the next morning in the hallway outside the bathroom we shared, looking like it always did after nights like that, his expression asking me What is happening to you, May? Who are you?

A hard, mean pebble formed in my gut, and I growled at my mother, I’m going alone. All by myself. I’m allowed to have my own life—my own friends. I’m sick and tired of my loser brother always coming everywhere with me.

In response, her eyes widened, but they were trained on something behind me in the doorway. I whipped around and there he was, watching us. His eyes locked on mine and I tried to form words, to squeak out an apology, but before I could, he turned around and left the room, and then I left the house, and three days later, he was dead.

—

In my bedroom, on my bed, in the present, a sound splits the silence, and I realize that it’s coming out of me, that I’m screaming.

I run into the bathroom, and everything I’ve eaten today spills out of me into the toilet.

After I’m empty, I drag myself back into my bedroom and see the letter lying on my bed, taunting me.

There’s so much I can’t remember, so much I don’t know. All the questions I’ve pushed out of my head over the past year swarm in at once: Did I see David at that party? Did we really talk? Did Jordan call out my name before he died? Why didn’t I leave the closet to save him? Did he forgive me for how I’d treated him? The thought of David’s knowing something about Jordan that I don’t makes me feel like he’s stolen another piece of my brother from me. He’s already taken too much.

I reach for my phone and go to my favorites. I call my top contact.

Even though it’s late Friday night, she answers on the first ring. Like she always does.

—

Forty minutes later, Lucy sits on my bed, a letter gripped tight in her hand. The other letters are scattered around her, like she’s sitting in the eye of a hurricane. She finishes reading another one and looks up at me, eyes wide.