Page 10 of What You Left Me

She brings the phone to her ear, and I peek in a window, looking for signs of life.

“Hey, are you here?” A long pause. “What do you mean?” She puts her hand over the phone and looks at me. “Does he go by Fly?”

“What?”

“This guy hosting the party. Is his nickname Fly?”

“I don’t know. He said his mom calls him Marty McFly.”

“Daniel’s saying he got in a car accident after graduation. No one knows anything for sure, but people are saying he could be dead.”

• • •

I know I graduated today.

I ate a sesame bagel with jalapeños and extra cream cheese this morning.

Drank three forties with Spits, Turrey, and Chris two nights ago.

Got in another fight with Brooke after prom.

Skipped my last final.

Bought two bags of Cheetos, a roll of toilet paper, and a case of Keystone Light at the end of last week.

During the ceremony, I swear I struggled for a second to remember Spits’s real name. He’s been Spits or Spitty as long as I’ve been Marty or Fly, which is as long as I can remember. Now I can come up with the first time I knew he was going to be my best friend. Second-grade recess kickball game. Third inning, bases loaded. He caught my kick then dropped it because he saw I was about to cry, letting my team win the game. He had on khaki shorts with a hole where the left pocket should’ve been. You could see his Batman underwear. Everyone made fun of him for it. They called him Spitman for like the next three years.

This is all stuff I forgot. Even what I ate this morning. It was erased, and now it’s here. It’s all here. Except my body. And things to taste or see or smell or touch.

What did I do?

I got in the White Whale. I grabbed at the air, thinking of Graduation Girl. Then something pushed me. Pushed and pushed until I folded inside of myself.

3

Spencer’s head hits the airbag over and over, the impact replaying on a loop. His thoughts repeat, too, locked on the first thing that comes to mind as another car barrels into the White Whale’s passenger side.

Crash. Smack.

I killed my best friend.

It’s the worst thought he’s ever had.

Crash. Smack.

I killed my best friend.

It’s the only thought he’ll ever have again.

Time jumps forward. Sirens flash red. Blood bleeds red. The world tangles into a knot that cannot be untied.

Time jumps backward. Fresh air, so pure, flows into the van. Spencer presses harder on the gas pedal. His heel digs into the car mat beneath.

Martin opens his mouth to speak, but words won’t form.

Time hiccups.

Crash. Smack.