Page 53 of Goodbye Days

“Let’s sit. You bring your lunch?”

“Yeah.” I pull out my turkey-avocado sandwich and unwrap it, even though I’ve lost my appetite. “What are you eating?”

“Peanut butter, banana, honey, and bacon,” Jesmyn says, covering her full mouth.

“And I was worried you wouldn’t like the milkshakes at Bobbie’s. What are you, Elvis?”

“I wish. Speaking of, I’m going to be working on my audition piece after school. I need to start practicing with an audience so I can overcome being nervous about people watching. Wanna watch? You can do homework or whatever; I need somebody in the room.”

“I’m flattered! You literally need a pulsing sack of human meat and organs to sit in a chair? And hey! That’s what I am!”

She hmphs and pushes me. “And because you said you wanted to see me play sometime, dork. I’m not looking for random dudes to sit and watch me. I could go on Craigslist for that.”

Speaking of random dudes, speaking of sacks of meat: I look up across the cafeteria and spot Alex Bishop. Our eyes meet, and mine say: No need to pity me, asshole. I’ve lost a lot of things, but I have this. I’m sitting here beside Jesmyn while she eats her Elvis sandwich and you’re not. So kiss my ass. I’d forgotten how triumph feels. It’s great.

I enjoy it for about three seconds before I finally notice Adair scowling at Jesmyn and me and whispering to her friends. Our prior encounter echoes in my ears.

“So?” Jesmyn asks.

“Huh?”

“Wanna watch?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” I lie. “Why?”

“Because you’re looking especially Carverish.”

I laugh in spite of myself. “What does that mean?”

“Sort of lost.”

“Oh, cool.”

“No, I mean lost in thought. Like the mysteries of the universe are revealing themselves to you.”

I’ve never gotten used to the idea of people thinking about me when I’m not directly in front of them. “They’re not. The more I consider the mysteries of the universe, the less I understand them.”

“Is that what you and the therapist talked about? The mysteries of the universe?”

“More the mysteries of my own brain.”

“Fascinating,” she whispers.

“So sarcastic.”

“Only a little. You wanna try a bite of my—” Jesmyn starts to say, when a crack of thunder interrupts her. We can hear it over the chatter. An excited rush sweeps through the throng. Jesmyn’s face instantly blooms.

She jumps up and grabs my wrist, yanking me to my feet. “Come on.”

“What?” I ask, through a mouthful of sandwich.

“Hurry. We gotta watch it.” She’s tugging me toward the hallway that connects to the cafeteria. It’s made of floor-to-ceiling windows.

We get there and Jesmyn drops my wrist, leaving my skin hungry. She presses her hands to the glass—a child at the zoo, replete with wondrous expression. As if trying to absorb something. A blinding flash of lightning and another deafening crack of thunder. She shudders and giggles.