Page 20 of What You Left Me

“That sure is a lot of strings getting pulled on your behalf. You realize that, right?”

“Yeah. I do.” My heavy tongue chokes my words until they’re nothing but dead syllables. “Juniors take the final on Monday. That’s my last chance.”

“You going?”

It’s a complicated question, and there are too many ways to answer, so I do what I always do: keep quiet.

Turrey’s face contorts into an expression resembling a crinkled paper bag. “Whatever happened, you can’t fix it by ignoring it. They’re giving you a chance people like me don’t get. You understand? You need to take it.”

I nod. I do understand.

To change the subject, I go in big. “So, how do you know Martin?”

Turrey laughs. “Haven’t heard anyone other than a teacher call him that in, like, ten years. Fly’s my oldest friend. You know Spits?”

I shake my head.

“He was driving.”

“Oh.”

Turrey devours the rest of his slice then dabs at the corners of his mouth. “It’s weird as hell that you came, but Fly’d like knowing some random smart girl rolled up to check on him,” he says.

“I’m glad.”

“Fly’s pretty smart too. He doesn’t think we know, but his mom’s always bragging.”

“Where’s he going to school?”

“He’s taking a year off to save up for ISU with me and Spitty. Brooke’s trying to get money for the hospital stuff through some crowdfunding page she made.”

He brought her up first, so I crack the small window of opportunity open. “Brooke’s his girlfriend, right?”

Turrey belly laughs. He sips on his Mountain Dew. “They mess around.”

I offer him a polite nod and pick up the last bite of my pizza, wondering what Ryan told his high school friends about me last year. If I come up in conversation with his new college friends or if he erased me from his history like I’ve done to him. A life chapter never spoken aloud by either side.

“Why? You wanna date Fly?” Turrey asks.

The question sets my face on fire. I just know Turrey’s the type to comment on the way I’m blushing, so I bite down on my tongue to stop myself from feeling anything other than a burst of pain. “I barely know him,” I say to diffuse.

He throws his head back in hysterics, clutching at the air to hold on to the laughter seizing him. “Says the girl who’s missing finals and shit to come to the hospital.”

“It’s on Monday,” I protest.

“Yeah, all right, whatever, I’m not gonna get in your business. But I tell you what—Fly would go for it, one hundred percent.”

I mumble about how I heard him call Brooke a stage-five clinger. I try to stop myself from saying it, but not so hard that I actually do.

“For real, do you have a wire on me? It’s like this: Brooke and Fly have love, but it’s notlove.It’s over, but she’s acting like it isn’t because of what happened.” He lets out a healthy yawn, one so big that I yawn too.

The Brooke topic dies within our long stretches of air intake. I’ll have to get more information elsewhere.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he starts. “Nobody did. We all stayed up just kind of staring at the hospital walls.”

“I bet,” I say. I wish insomnia would find me. There are certain recurring themes my mind forces me to visit every time I close my eyes. It’s, like, I get it. I deal with it enough while I’m awake.

Turrey inhales and pauses, the first sign of hesitation I’ve seen from him since we met. I stop chewing just so I can take it in. “I could right now.”