I go inside my house and straight to my bedroom. I turn on the TV and crawl under my red blanket. The familiar dialogue of The Iron Giant fills the room. Without the pounding music filling up my head, Joel’s words come back and make me feel terrible all over again.
I think about how messed up things have gotten. Each day I just want to be isolated in this room more and more. That would be so much easier. Maybe I can lock myself in here and my parents can bring a tray of food to my door. Every day I can just sit here, peering out my window and painting pictures. And then all the kids can be scared of me and make up scary stories about me.
But my parents won’t be around forever, which means I’ll be alone, in this house, for decades. Maybe nobody will even know when I die in here, like the old man across the street. Maybe I’ll just rot in this room.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. I quickly reach for it hoping it’s Joel.
Hey, it’s Colin. Just making sure you got home okay.
I cringe because he apparently thinks I’m a raging dumbass. It really sucks for someone to witness you at your worst.
Then another text comes in.
Uh, I don’t mean you’re a crazy person. Ur not. Not really.
I sigh. I’m just about to text back when another text comes in.
And now you probably think I’m a weirdo bc I’ve sent you two texts in less than a minute.
Actually . . .
Actually 3. And this makes 4. And now you think I’m crazy. But I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.
I start texting back, but then another text comes in.
I’m not.
I’m wondering what that means when I get the rest of the text.
Crazy. Or a stalker. This is bad. Can you delete all of these, please? I’m stopping now.
Despite feeling horrible, I smile as another one buzzes in.
Basically, I just hope you’re okay.
I’m fine, I text back. And send more texts individually.
I didn’t run over anyone.
Thanks for checking.
I don’t think you’re crazy or a stalker.
I guess you’re all right.
Thanks for hanging around.
I’m not a stalker either.
I wait to see if he responds. He does.
No problem.
I text back.
Goodnight, Colin.
Goodnight, Frenchie.
I lie back down and stare at my ceiling, replaying tonight over and over again. I see me and Joel at the Stage, yelling at each other. And Lily standing there with that stupid look on her face.
I close my eyes to shut out those images, but when I do, I see flashes of Andy Cooper. I see snapshots of that night and how I must have missed something. If I could just go back and find out what I missed . . . it would somehow give me the power to change it. I would wake up in a new day, where none of this had happened. Where I somehow saved him. And my life, everything, would make sense again.
If what happened with Andy Cooper had never happened then everything would be different. I would be different and then maybe this night with Joel wouldn’t have gone down the way it did.
But I also can’t help thinking, if Joel had never met Lily, if he’d been there the night I ran into Andy, then that night would never have happened the way it did either.
I don’t even know what to think anymore and I just want to fall asleep and think of nothing.
I close my eyes again, but this time I see the blonde woman peering down at me in the middle of the dance floor. Is that Frenchie? Is that girl’s name Frenchie?
I open my eyes. It’s useless. I roll out of bed, let myself flop onto the floor, and stay there.
I’m crazy. Had he said that or was I just imagining it? Was Andy crazy? Would he have killed himself no matter what? Or could I have changed it somehow?
What did I miss?
I look at my clock. Midnight. The red numbers click to 12:01 and the swirl of the red and gold lights at the Stage plays back in my head. And the way I felt when I walked in there again.
I hold in my breath.
My heart races as my mind comes up with a crazy plan. I wonder if I should, if I can do it.
I watch the minutes pass as I try to work up the courage. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not courage that makes me reach for the phone. It’s those minutes ticking by and the knowing that I can’t stay here, waiting for another morning, where I’ll wake up and try to find reasons to get out of bed.
I hold my phone and start tapping away before I can change my mind.
R u there?
I wait, hoping he’ll text back. A moment later, my phone buzzes with an incoming text.
I’m here. What’s up?
I’m not okay.
When I see those words typed out, I realize the truth of them. I let them register for a minute knowing more than ever that I have to go through with this. I keep typing.
I need to figure out something. And I need a favor. It’s kind of crazy.
OK . . . ?
Will u meet me at the corner of my block?
Same block as Greenwood Cemetery. Do u know where that is?
Now?
Yes.
Sure. What should I do when I get there? Just wait. Then I’ll tell you the rest. OK . . . b there in 15.