Big Fat Disaster (41 page)

Drew’s eyes get big and she whines, “But I don’t like eating breakfast at school.”

I pull a box of cereal off the shelf and hand it to her, then turn to the cabinet for a bowl. “You don’t have to, Drew. We have time before the bus comes.”

Drew asks, “Do you
want
to go live with Daddy?”

I nearly drop the bowl. “What?”

Drew takes the bowl from me and dumps cereal into it. “Mama called Daddy last night and told him to come get you…Do you
want
to live with Daddy?”

My head is spinning. I don’t answer; just uncap the milk and pour it on Drew’s cereal, sloshing it over the sides and not caring.

Drew takes a bite of cereal and speaks through her food. “Daddy said you can’t come live with him because he’s got enough problems already. Mama yelled at him and made me go to my room, but I still listened anyway…What’s a spineless asshole? I know what an asshole is, but what’s a spineless one?”

Michael Taylor boards the bus and asks no one in particular, “Have y’all seen my Facebook status this morning?”

A flurry of people whip out their phones and silently read. Within moments: “Are you kidding me?”…“Wow. That’s some cold shit.”…“That sucks.”

I try to make eye contact with Tina, hoping that she’ll tell me what’s on Michael’s Facebook page, but she’s staring at her phone.

Chief Taylor’s exiting the school as I’m going in. Mr. McDaniel turns without a word and enters the office when I glance at him. I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

At the end of morning announcements, Mr. McDaniel asks all the teachers to check their e-mail immediately. Mrs. Clay glances at the speaker in the ceiling and mutters, “I long for the days when my lectures weren’t interrupted by technology.”

She shuffles around her desk to her computer, sits in her chair, taps a few keys, and leans in close to the screen. She sighs heavily, then rises, comes over to me, and gives my shoulder three rose-scented pats. She stays by me, sighs again. I force myself to look up at her. She shakes her head sadly, gives me a rueful smile and a couple more pats, then moves back to stand within reach of her fresh roses.

Whispers break out in the back of the room. Mrs. Clay clears her throat. “Continuing our discussion of homeostasis…”

Anna turns to me, hisses, “What’s going on? Why did Mrs. Clay look at you so funny?”

I shrug.

I enter Fun Math to find a red rose on Ryan’s desk. I try not to look at it. One by one, girls place handwritten notes alongside the rose. I pick up one to read it.

“That note’s not for you,” Kayley blurts from her place next to me. “It’s for Ryan, because he died trying to save
you
. Now we
all
know the truth.”

“How did you—?”

She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “It was on Michael’s Facebook page. His dad’s the chief of police so I
know
it’s the truth. You know: the opposite of
lying
…?”

“Is she for real, Colby?”

I turn to see Anna.

“Wh-when Sean and I came to see you after Ryan’s memorial service, you said that
you
tried to save
him
. Why would you lie about that?”

My voice doesn’t even sound like it’s coming from me. “I’m sorry, Anna. I didn’t mean to; I…just…”

Coach Allison cuts us off. “Okay, folks, we’re not having this discussion here. Mr. McDaniel has instructed us staff members to direct you to Mrs. Healey if you feel the need to talk about it.” He turns and reads directly from his computer screen. “This is a tragedy, no matter who died and who was the real hero. Students may feel betrayed, but we must emphasize the need for compassion.”

He frowns first at me, then at the impromptu memorial growing on Ryan’s desk. “Y’all get out your workbooks.”

In the hallway, some people stare and try to conceal their whispers, while others don’t even attempt to keep me from hearing. Girls write Ryan’s name in big bubbly letters and tape signs to their lockers. Some of the same guys who used to call Ryan a traitor are squaring their shoulders and talking about him like he was their brother.

I open my locker door to find a note shoved through the vent:
LIAR. Go back where you came from!

I shake my head and snort.
Like I don’t wish every day that I could hit Rewind on my life.
I crumple the paper and throw it to the floor.

I slide into my seat in life skills and hear Angela and Kyle talking about dedicating the yearbook to Ryan. When they notice me, they stop talking and glare at me. I pick up my things and walk out the door.

“Colby, wait! Where are you going?”

I freeze in place and hang my head. Mrs. Lowe approaches and puts her arm around me. “Honey, where are you going? Class is about to start.”

I whisper, “I can’t do this. Everyone hates me because of what I did to Ryan.”

Her brow furrows; she shakes her head. “You didn’t
do
anything to him, sweetheart. It was a terrible accident.”

I snort, “I guess you haven’t heard. He was trying to save
me
.
I
was trying to kill
myself
.” I look away, unable to meet her eyes.

“No, I’ve heard.” She leans down, looks up into my face, and says softly, “You
still
didn’t do that
to
him. No matter what you call it, Colby, Ryan’s death was an accident. He didn’t intend to die, and you didn’t intend for him to die, either. That’s an accident in my book.”

“But…I lied about it. I let everyone think that I was a hero. How am I supposed to live with myself?”

The tardy bell sounds, and Mrs. Lowe waits until it stops to speak again. “Everyone messes up sometimes. There’s not one of us who find it easy to own up when we’re ashamed of what we’ve done.” She tilts her head, and her blue eyes are soft. “I just wonder how much pain you must have been in to get to the point of standing in that road, and how much you must be in, now. Are you getting professional help for the feelings you’re having?”

I nod. My promises to Dr. Matt and Leah are heavy on my mind. I’ve gotten so used to thinking about dying as a way of escaping pain that I have no idea how I’ll be strong enough to let go of the idea and deal with my
life
. I can’t even imagine getting through the next eight hours.

“Well, I’m really glad that you’re still here with us, Colby. I’m sorry that Ryan’s not, but I don’t hold you responsible. Think you can just try to come back to class? Please?”

I allow Mrs. Lowe to take me by the hand and lead me back into her classroom.

Becca slides a note across the table to me. It’s just a couple of lines:

I slide the note into my binder cover and stare at it until class ends.