Chapters (97)
- Cover
- Back Cover Text
- Praise
- Booklist
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- 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
- 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
- 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
- Eighty-Four
- Eighty-Five
- Eighty-Six
- Eighty-Seven
- Eighty-Eight
- Eighty-Nine
- Acknowledgments & A Personal Note
- Excerpt
Emma sat bolt upright, looked up Carson’s number and called his phone. As it rang, she put it on speaker, her keyboard clicking as she searched Carson’s social media accounts. All had been deleted but one, which had one message: “Bye,” next to a sad face with a teardrop.
Carson’s phone went unanswered and Emma’s focus shot to the protocol for alerting the school to a student at risk of self-harm.
Or harming others.
No, Carson wouldn’t do that. Would he?
Then, as if on cue, as if by some fantastic miracle, Emma glanced out her office window and saw him—Carson was outside.
Relief and alarm pulsed through her as she rushed from her desk, ran down the hall, students turning, jaws dropping as Emma burst out the main entrance doors.
Carson was well ahead of her, walking away from the school, moving with big strides along the sidewalk that bordered the busy four-lane boulevard. She saw his bulging backpack, saw him gripping the straps.
“Carson!” Emma called as she ran.
He didn’t respond. He was heading in the direction of Meadow Valley Elementary.
What’s in his backpack?
“Carson, stop!” Emma called over the traffic, running closer to him.
He turned to her, gripping his straps.
An engine growled as she got closer. Carson raised one hand, flashed his palm; their eyes met as he mouthed the word Bye, then stepped from the sidewalk into the path of an oncoming Orange County transit bus as it gained speed.
Blood thumping in her ears, Emma reached out and in a heartbeat clawed at one of Carson’s straps, gripping it, saw the bus driver’s eyes balloon with horror as he twisted the steering wheel, brakes pealing, wheels locking, thudding, the entire bus dipping, swaying as Emma pulled Carson away and down to the pavement.
The bus just missed him.
The stench of burning rubber and clouds of smoke rolled over them. Horns blared. The bus doors opened, the driver flying out to them. Passengers and students gawked. Someone called 9-1-1.
“What the hell, kid, are you all right?” the driver asked.
Carson was crying, choking, coughing sobs. Emma gently pulled off his backpack and held him for a long moment.
“You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get help. You will get through this,” Emma said to the wail of approaching sirens.
As a precaution, paramedics took Carson to the nearest hospital.
His mother was undergoing chemotherapy miles away at a different hospital in Irvine. The school alerted his aunt and uncle, who rushed to be with him. They’d also reached his father, who scrambled to get on the next flight from Houston.