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Back Where There's A Will Save as PDF
Chapters (39)
  1. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. Interlude
  37. Acknowledgements
  38. Content Warning
  39. About the Author

A shooting pain sears my knuckles and I look down to see they’re spotted with red. Nausea rises quick and swift as I dart my eyes up to Will, confused to find him on his knees, staring at the brick wall next to us. Brows knitted as he seems to shrink in on himself.

I turn toward the wall.

Blood.

I punched the wall.

He whispers, “Way—”

“What is going on over here?” someone shouts. A teacher. I don’t look to see who it is.

I lick my lips. I’m shaking. Why am I shaking?

“You ruined everything,” I tell him, hating how my voice cracks.

And then I spit at him.

Right at his face.

A teacher yanks me away by my good arm, and I don’t take my eyes off Will as I’m all but dragged away. I don’t look away as I watch what little light was still left in his eyes wink out.

A heaviness settles on my chest in a way I’ve never felt before as I take in his hunched stance. He’s always looked so big to me—big and bright and full of life.

He looks so small right now. Small and vulnerable as he curls over himself.

I did that, I realize.

He is now a shell of the boy I met way back in November. The boy with the weirdly harsh voice and the take-no-shit attitude. It’s like something crucial has been taken from him, and the realization that I did this—I broke him, the boy I once called my best friend—it shatters me.

His hand comes up to wipe his face, and I don’t miss that he’s shaking.

A teacher approaches him then, blotting out my view as they crouch down to check on him. Make sure he’s okay, no doubt.

I don’t know then, that that would be the last time I see Will Foster.

I don’t know then, what my dad has planned for the coming summer.

I don’t know then, that I’ll never be the same ever again.

21

21

Will Foster

September

The sky is gray with impending rain outside Reggie’s shop.

Icy winds blow in from the open door, knocking around flyers and receipts pegged to the wall as it whistles through the cracked window on the other side of the garage.

I swipe the back of my hand across my face and squint at the cluster of metal above me. Biting down on the narrow flashlight between my teeth, I run the light over the underside of the car one more time.

“How bad?”

I grunt, kicking my feet off the ground to roll the pulley out from under the ’65 Buick. Blue Oyster Cult rumbles from the stereo in the corner, crooning about the seduction of death.