Freshman year was not Lucy’s finest moment. Apparently, she inherited the drinking problem that her dad dealt with when we were younger. It was like drinking did one thing to most of us—Chim and I became louder, more obnoxious versions of ourselves, which wasn’t ideal, but at least wasn’t destructive—but Lucy…went dark. Super dark. It was like she turned into a whole other person. Thankfully, after a year and more scary nights than I’d like to remember, she decided to follow in her now-sober father’s footsteps and attend AA meetings with him. She’s been so much better since.

I, on the other hand, should have quit drinking when she did—should have quit partying, quit thinking I was so fucking cool. Doing dumb things. Acting like I was indestructible, like my actions didn’t matter. I should have listened to Lucy—to Jordan. Maybe things would be different right now if I had. Maybe he would be sitting next to me, instead of lying in a hole in the ground….

All of a sudden, my breath is coming out in fast, jagged bursts. The fluorescent lights are getting brighter. They’re burning my pupils.

“Lucy.” I grab her shirtsleeve, gasping. “Lucy.”

She takes one look at me and drops the sandwich that’s midway to her mouth. “Okay, okay. It’s okay. Shhh…breathe.” She puts her hand on my back. “Put your head between your knees. Yeah, like that. Good.” She’s rubbing the small of my back and my head is between my knees and the fuzzy sound in my ears is subsiding, the noises of the cafeteria becoming clearer.

I’m trying to slow my breathing and she’s whispering in my ear—soft, kind things—until I feel semi-okay again. Not like I’m going to vomit all over everyone at our table. Not like my brother’s ghost is going to spontaneously materialize out of my head and start shouting accusations at me.

I straighten up and wipe my eyes.

Everyone at the table is staring at me like I’m a total freak.

Not that I can blame them.

’Cause really, that’s what I am.

Chapter Six

I can barely lift my arms high enough to stuff my textbooks into the top of my locker as I wait for Conor and Gwen after school. Apparently, that’s what I do best: wait. Wait for them to show up, wait for the day to end, wait for graduation day to arrive. All the colleges I applied to are far, far away, where no one knows my family, where I can walk down the hallways and not feel like half the student body wants to spit in my face.