This is What Goodbye Looks Like (11 page)

I pull my backpack between us, pretending to search for my notebook, but really just wanting a barrier to hide behind.

“So am I right?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I admit.

Honestly, happiness doesn’t seem very important anymore. I’d settle for a sad life, as long as it didn’t involve my sister teetering on the brink of death and a boy who’s already fallen off the ledge.

Seth leans back in his chair, a smug expression tilting up his lips. “I’m right. It’s my sixth sense, you know. Reading people. Everyone assumes I suck at it, since I can’t see them, but I think that just makes it easier for me. They let their guard down.”

“We’ve gotten off track,” I say, pulling the backpack closer to my chest.

“Were we ever
on
track? I think we’ve been off topic as soon as you got here and started asking questions about my sense of color.”

“Okay, fine. Sorry about that. I’ll make sure to not ask anything personal anymore.”

He brushes away my promise with a swish of his hand. “Don’t apologize. I don’t mind you chatting or asking questions or whatever. Tutoring gets so boring if you don’t.”

“Okay. Well, um, thanks. But we really should get started.”

“Yeah, sure.” He faces his laptop again and expertly taps a couple of the Braille keys. I can’t make sense of any of the patterned bumps or even how their arrangement works, so I just hope Seth doesn’t expect me to be able to figure it out.

“Do you want to re-explain the acid-base equilibria to me?” he asks. “Because the explanation Mr. Bennet gave us made zero sense.”

I’m finally able to relax a little as I rattle off an answer that requires all facts and zero emotions. After that, I manage to keep the conversation away from personal topics, and it doesn’t take long to figure out that tutoring Seth is going to be a lot easier than I expected. I mostly just have to explain in detail the graphs and charts that are in my textbook but missing from his audio edition. Numbers seem to be the key to explaining things. He’s incredible at mental math, and using numbers to illustrate my points makes the session move along swiftly.

I find myself staring at Seth’s chest every few minutes, just marveling at the fact that it’s moving, that he’s breathing. Luckily, he never seems to notice when I zone out. He spends a lot of the session with his lower lip trapped between his teeth, his head tilted in concentration and his hair swished to the side. My brain flip-flops between thinking it’s cute that the ends of his hair curl slightly and thinking it’s creepy that he looks so damn much like his brother.

We’re both exhausted by the time it’s four-thirty, but I’m strangely relaxed. I made it through over an hour of one-on-one tutoring without Seth figuring out who I am. Maybe that means I can keep up this charade better than I anticipated.

I start packing up my notebook and say, “We should probably wrap this up for today.”

He nods. “Yeah, I definitely think that’s enough for one day.”

“How do you do that?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

He raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“That,” I say. “Nodding, raising your eyebrows, all those sorts of little things. I’ve noticed you do it a lot, but if you’ve always been blind, how do you know to do it?”

“My brother taught me,” he says, his voice suddenly quieter. “In elementary school, I used to get picked on for having strange facial expressions. Pretty much all the expressions I made naturally were a little different from a person who could see. The bullying got pretty bad, so my brother made it his mission to teach me how to use expressions like a sighted person.”

He gives a soft, sad smile. “The first thing he taught me was how to roll my eyes, so if anyone ever made a nasty comment about my blindness, I could just roll my eyes and tell them to get over it.”

“He sounds like a great brother,” I murmur.

“The best,” Seth says with a nod. “He never let me use my blindness as an excuse for anything. And sometimes I’d get angry at him, but mostly I just loved him for it. He used to tell me that I’d always be the Ashbury with the most interesting story, since I see everything from a different point of view. But I think we all knew it was bullshit. He was always the one in our family with the most interesting stories, because he could find the good in literally everything.”

Seth hesitates a moment, and he lets his fingers trail across the silver chain hanging around his neck. Sadness darkens his expression, and he says, “You know, this might sound kind of weird, and yeah, actually, it
is
just flat-out weird. But you remind me of my brother. His name was Parker, and he’s, uh...he passed away recently.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wishing I could repeat the words a million times. Then a question rises to the top of the swirling guilt in my mind. “But why would I remind you of him?”

He tilts his head to the other side and bites at his lip. “Because you both let me see.”

My chest freezes, and my breathing stops, and my words cling to my throat. Silence passes between us, thick and heavy. Then I swallow hard and choke out, “I’ve got to get back to my dorm.”

That seems to snap him out of some sort of reverie, and he quickly nods and shuts his laptop. “Yeah, Brie wanted to leave soon. We should go get ready. Uh, thanks for the tutoring.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Koda stands up from where she’s been resting at his feet and lets out a dramatic, toothy yawn. Seth ruffles her ears. “Just a second,” he says to her, and then goes back to packing up his stuff. I get the feeling I shouldn’t offer to help—he’s clearly used to handling most things without any sort of aid. As if answering my silent question, he says, “Go ahead and take off, if you want. I’ll see you in just a bit, yeah? We’re meeting back in that same spot in the parking lot, right in the corner by the flagpole.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “See you.”

Chapter Twelve

Hardly anyone is in the pizza parlor when we get there, which only adds to the old-movie vibe of the place. Black and white tiles checker the floor, and booths with matching red seats line the walls in empty rows. Despite its aged feel, every inch of the restaurant is sparkling clean, and even the front corner stuffed with pinball machines is polished to a shine.

We shatter the quiet as soon as we step inside. After so many months spent alone in the hushed silence of my house, I’m still trying to get used to the dizzying noise Brie and her friends make, but I can’t bring myself to dislike it. Brie’s closest to her five friends she first introduced me to, and they’re the ones who came into town tonight. As we head inside, their chatter joins the humming heater to fill the restaurant with a comforting warmth.

I immediately recognize Nathan, who’s reading a culinary magazine as he leans against the counter by the front register. He wears an apron and a smudge of flour on his cheek, and his expression brightens as his gaze lands on Brie.

“Hey!” he calls, setting the magazine down. “You guys want the usual?”

“Sounds good,” Brie says, her smile suddenly doubling in size.

Cameron looks pointedly between Nathan and Brie and then starts whistling the theme song from
Lady and the Tramp
. Hannah cuffs him in the shoulder and drags him away toward an empty table, and he breaks off his whistling to let out a yelp of protest, followed by a burst of laughter.

Brie blushes a deep red and hurries after them, the rest of us following her. I slip into the seat next to Brie, and Seth takes the spot right next to me. I should probably be bothered by how close he is, but after spending all afternoon tutoring him, my curiosity about Seth is starting to overcome my nerves.

‘“So what’s ‘the usual?’” I ask. I take a deep breath, savoring the scent of this place. It smells amazing, the fresh-baked bread mingling with the crisp tang of herbs.

Maddie smirks as she sits across the table from us, squeezing in next to Landon, Cameron, and Hannah. “There isn’t really a ‘usual.’ Nathan used to always complain that he never got to experiment in the kitchen, so we made a deal with him. He gets to serve us whatever he wants, as long as he gives us five bucks off and he never, ever tries using anchovies again.”

I raise my eyebrows at Brie. “You said the anchovies were good.”

She blushes, but it’s Hannah who answers. “Of course Brie thought it was good. Nathan could serve us a plate of mud, and she’d still say it was good.”

“Shush!” Brie squeaks, waving her hands at Hannah. “He’s not deaf, you know.”

“You’re sure about that?” Landon asks. “I don’t think you can make it much more obvious that you’re into him.”

Brie gives a small laugh. “I have to admit, I’m starting to wonder if he’s gay.”

“He’s not gay,” Cameron says, joining Brie in staring across the room at Nathan. “Or at least he’s not out.”

“And how would you know?” Maddie asks. “It’s not like gay dudes walk around with a sign saying, ‘I’m gay, ladies need not try to impress, cute guys come hither.’ Or at least I haven’t noticed
you
carrying one, Cam.”

Cameron smirks sheepishly. “I asked. He said no.”

Seth raises an eyebrow. “You asked if he’s gay, or you asked him out?”

“Asked him out, of course,” Cam says, lightly punching Seth’s arm. “You really think I wouldn’t give it a shot? The dude’s freaking hot.” He shoots Brie an apologetic smile. “Don’t worry, Brie. This was before you called dibs.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Looks like you wouldn’t have been much competition, anyway.”

Nathan makes his way over to our table holding two baskets of breadsticks, and their banter comes to a conspicuous halt. Hannah and Maddie exchange giggles, while Brie’s blush deepens even more, but Nathan ignores all of it and drops the baskets on top of the table with a dramatic flourish.

“Enjoy,” he says over his shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen.

Everyone snatches up a breadstick, and I follow suit, juggling mine between my palms to cool it before I take a bite. Warm, buttery bread melts on my tongue, and I give an appreciative sigh. If the pizza is half as good as the breadsticks, Brie’s right—Nathan could probably use all the anchovies he wants, and it’d still be delicious.

“Looks like someone’s found true love,” Cameron says, winking at me.

I take another bite and nod. “You guys weren’t kidding about this place being heaven.”

Cameron gulps down the last bit of his appetizer and grins. “We don’t kid about our food, sweetie. And heaven is actually only one of our theories.”

“What are the others?” I ask, dusting a bit of flour off my hand.

“Maddie’s convinced there’s a fair amount of crack that gets mixed with the flour,” Landon says. “And Hannah thinks it’s some sort of recipe sent back from the future that’s meant to establish world peace, because it’ll eventually spread to other restaurants, and the entire planet is going to end up too fat to hold a gun.”

“Which is why we don’t tell many people about this place,” Seth says, nudging me gently with his elbow. “We can’t have other people swooping in and stealing the recipe to our heaven.”

I look down and blush, not trusting myself to come up with a response that doesn’t sound entirely awkward. Seth smirks a little as he reaches for another breadstick, but when he realizes it’s the last one in the basket, he hands it to me.

“Lea gets the last one,” he announces to the rest of the table. “We need to keep her well-fed if we’re going to convince her to put up with our conspiracy theories.”

“Thanks for the bribery,” I say, taking it from him. My fingers brush against his, and the warmth of his skin makes my heart stutter, but I don’t think it’s purely from nervousness. I quickly snatch my hand back.

No. I’m not going there, not with Seth. I’m not going within a
hundred miles
of there.

Brie launches into a sudden discussion of the new British Lit teacher, saving me from having to explain my strange reaction to the others, who are giving me curious looks. I keep my eyes down and focus on chewing the breadstick, which suddenly tastes like cardboard.

It doesn’t take long for Nathan to reemerge from the kitchen with a huge pizza balanced on his hand. He sets it on our table and rattles off some explanation of the ingredients, which includes feta cheese, basil leaves, bell peppers, and a bunch of other stuff I’d never think to use as pizza toppings. But as I take my first bite, I realize Brie’s admiration for his cooking isn’t pure exaggeration. Nathan’s recipe might sound weird, but it tastes pretty amazing.

The conversation starts rolling again as people munch on their pizza, although I only understand about half the topics, since it’s all Harting gossip. Brie and Maddie both seem to be experts at flinging out new subjects and steering the entire conversation into a new direction in about half a second. Hannah and the guys keep rolling their eyes, but they’re smiling at their friends’ ADHD approach to talking.

There’s something almost hypnotic about this group, and as they exchange laughter and jibes and inside jokes, I can’t help being pulled under by a sense of ease. I haven’t felt this relaxed in...months.

I squeeze my hand into a fist under the table, searching for the familiar pain from my fractured pinky, but even the dull twinge of the healed injury doesn’t dampen my mood. Part of me wants to feel guilty for actually enjoying myself, but the other part is just too relieved to bother fighting it.