This is What Goodbye Looks Like (7 page)

“Hi, Bailey,” I say, waving back at him. “I’m Lea, Brie’s new friend.”

“Hey, Bailey Boy,” Brie coos, a smile lighting up her face. “I hear you got an elephant. Can we see?”

Bailey returns the smile, which is just as bright as Brie’s, and starts babbling about his new toy. I can barely understand anything he’s saying, but Brie nods along and makes little comments as Bailey proudly shows off his stuffed elephant. I’m guessing Bailey is about two-years-old, and even though he’s so much younger than Brie, there’s no mistaking they’re related. Their faces are the same shape, and although his eyes are a dark brown, they have the same softness as Brie’s.

Charlotte pops back into the video chat just a minute later, saying she needs to go put Bailey down for bed, and we quickly say goodnight. Bailey starts crying as soon as Brie waves goodbye, and her mom gives a tired sigh as she shuts off the video chat, leaving Brie and me in silence. Brie stares longingly at the blank screen, her smile immediately falling from her face.

“Thanks,” I say. “For introducing me, I mean.”

She nods. “Yeah, no problem. I figure you might as well meet them, since I’m talking with them all the time. My dad’s not around tonight, but I’ll introduce you guys next time we talk.”

“Do your parents make you call every night?”

Brie shakes her head and gives a small laugh. “No, but I do it anyway.” She shrugs. “Harting’s a great school, but it’s not home. And Bailey...he’s special to me, you know? I miss him like hell.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I get that.”

She nods to me. “You said you have a sister, right?”

“A little sister.” I flinch as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone here about Camille, but I can’t take it back now. I clear my throat a little, trying to get the hoarseness out of my voice, and choke out, “Camille. Um, that’s her name.”

“Are you two close?”

“Yeah. I know people are supposed to be annoyed by little siblings, but it’s just never been like that with us. We’re pretty much exact opposites, but I still love her to death.”

Brie smiles at that. “How old is she?”

“She just turned thirteen.”

“Thirteen, huh? How’s she liking high school so far?”

“She...” I heave a deep breath, steeling myself for the truth. “She hasn’t started yet. She got, um, really sick toward the end of eighth grade. So she’s been in the hospital for a long time.”

My stomach twists, just like it always does when I talk about this. The first few months Camille was in the coma ward, I’d visited her every single day. In the morning, I’d do my physical therapy over in the recovery ward, and then I’d spend the entire afternoon sitting at her bedside, catching up on my homework and quietly talking to Camille, even though I never got a response.

Then my physical therapy got cut back to twice a week, and so did my visits to Camille. According to my doctors, it was unhealthy to be spending so much time in the hospital. I should be out doing “normal teen activities,” whatever that’s supposed to mean for a girl who suddenly finds herself trapped in a home-study program and hardly able to walk. And as I continued to fail at the whole “normal teen” thing, and Camille continued to not wake up, Dad put his foot down. I was only permitted to visit Camille once a week.

That was when Harting became my goal. If I couldn’t spend time with Camille, then getting away from San Diego seemed ideal. And, if I was going to escape, I decided I might as well try to help Camille while I did it. Everyone in my life seemed more interested in me “moving on” than solving the issues at hand, so since they couldn’t help, I decided that the Ashburys might be able to. They’d already done exactly what I needed to do—healed their broken family.

I knew they wouldn’t talk to me openly. But I also learned through news articles that Parker was an alumni of Harting, and Seth still goes here. It’s far-fetched, and I’ve known it since the start, but I’ve made it this far, so who knows. Maybe my plan will actually work. Maybe I’ll actually be able to get to know Seth Ashbury, and he’ll help me figure out what kept his family from crumbling, and how I can fix mine.

But it’s definitely going to require talking to him a lot and fishing for information, which so far, I’m failing miserably at.

Brie opens her mouth, and I think she’s fishing for something encouraging to say to me. But then she just shakes her head. “I’m so sorry,” she says softly. “I can’t even imagine how terrible that must be.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, because I think she’s right. Comas had always sounded creepy to me, but I never understood how truly horrifying they are until the first time I visited Camille in the hospital.

Seeing her bruised and broken body hooked up to half a dozen machines was worse than any nightmare I’d ever had. For years, Camille had been using her tiny, slender build as an advantage when she competed in gymnastics, and she’d won dozens of medals for her local team. I’d always loved how she’d shock people with her abilities, despite being smaller than most girls her age. But after the accident, her shortness stopped being cute. It was just another part of my living nightmare, a realization that ninety-pound girls have no chance of walking away from a car accident unscathed.

“My sister’s going to be okay,” I say, realizing an awkward silence has settled over the room.

Brie smiles hesitantly. “I’m glad.”

But she doesn’t sound convinced, and I don’t have the energy to protest her skepticism. In my head, all I can see is the conclusion from the report written by the latest specialist who examined Camille’s case: “
Due to the patient’s lack of regular brain function and the persistence of a comatose state without change, termination of life support is recommended.”

I shove myself to the edge of my bed and untangle my legs from the blankets. “I’m going to go get ready for bed,” I say.

“Yeah,” Brie says. “I should probably head to sleep, too. Don’t want to be tired on the first day of the semester, right?”

For a single, bizarre moment, I consider telling her the truth: that I’ll inevitably be tired, because even if the flashbacks don’t keep me awake, they’ll haunt me in my dreams. But I shake away the urge and force a small smile.

“Yeah. Right.”

Chapter Eight

As soon as I wake up, I notice the difference in the atmosphere. Outside, the wind blows wispy clouds across the pale morning sky, and branches skim against the dorm windows with frail creaks. But inside, I can hear the other girls in the dorm chatting and giggling, muffled snippets of their excited conversations floating through the walls as they get ready for the first day of the semester. Laughter breaks out from the shared bathrooms down the hall, and I recognize Brie’s high, ringing tones. Of course. She’s definitely not the type to sleep in if there’s anything remotely exciting going on.

If Harting is anything like my previous school, the early-semester enthusiasm will last about three days before it dissolves into eagerness for summer break. But, for now, the excitement is really not helping my nerves. A bunch more students returned to the campus over the weekend, and while I’ve managed to use my sudden case of the “flu” as an excuse to avoid socializing, today that’s going to have to end.

I drag myself out of bed and check my phone. Two new messages from Dad, which I don’t bother reading, and nothing from Jeremy. I sigh and toss it back on my nightstand, running a hand through my hair as I examine the clock. I have plenty of time to complete the physical therapy exercises I’m supposed to do every morning for my legs, but I decide to skip it again. Today is going to be painful enough without stretching out my torn muscles and jacked-up nerves.

I limp over to the closet, nervously eying all the potential outfits I’ve unpacked on my side of the space. I’m not sure how long I stay frozen there before Brie bursts into the room, already fully dressed with her makeup perfectly applied.

“Morning,” she chirps, and then when she sees the stare-down I’m having with the closet, she comes over and nudges me away. It takes her about two-point-five seconds to pull together an outfit for me—black skinny jeans, a deep green blouse, and a light grey cardigan to drape over it. She tops it off by reaching into her side of the closet and tossing me a crocheted scarf almost the exact color as the blouse.

“You’re a miracle worker,” I say, tucking the scarf firmly around my neck so it hides my scars.

“Just make sure you put layers under it. I’m not talented enough to bring you back to life if you freeze to death.” Then she offers me a smile and says, “Quit worrying. Boarding school kids can be bratty, but there’s a lot of us who are pretty normal. Just stick with me and my friends, and you’ll be fine.”

I have the sudden urge to pull her into a hug. She’s the first person in a long time whose kindness doesn’t feel like pity, and while I don’t really get why she thinks I deserve it, it’s still a welcome relief. But before I get a chance to hug her, she snatches her backpack off her desk in the corner of the room and points to the door.

“I’m ready to go, so I’m going to meet with some friends at the dining hall. Join us when you’re ready, okay?”

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

She heads out of the room, and I can’t help watching her graceful gait with a touch of envy. Then I take a deep breath and start getting ready for my day, doing my best to focus on my motions and not what they’re leading up to. I keep my head down as I use the bathroom, murmuring hellos to a few people, but not stopping to talk as I do my hair and makeup as quickly as possible. By the time I grab my book bag and leave for the dining hall, my skin is crawling with nervous goosebumps, and I’m just hoping I can make it through breakfast without throwing up again.

The dining hall is an elegant building in the center of campus, its aging brick walls covered in snow-dusted ivy. It’s only a minute’s walk away, but by the time I step inside, I’m shivering with cold and regretting only putting on three layers. I tug off my mittens as I peer around the crowded hall, taking in the room. Brie’s been bringing me food while I recovered from my “flu,” so I haven’t had a chance to visit in here yet, and I’m kind of surprised at how elaborate the set up is. The wall closest to the door is lined with two long tables stacked with food platters, everything from muffins to waffles to scrambled eggs. I grab a plate and quickly load it with some eggs and another one of those giant blueberry muffins, not caring if it makes me look like a glutton.

Brie catches sight of me before I even manage to make it through the buffet line, and she waves me over to a table in the corner. I do a quick scan of the table and let out a sigh of relief when I see Seth isn’t sitting there. The way Brie talks about him makes them sound like close friends, so I figured he’d probably be here for breakfast. But he’s not, and it gives me one less thing to worry about as I slowly limp over to the table, concentrating on not dropping my plate while my cane and heavy backpack try to unbalance me.

Brie’s usual group of friends is sitting with her, and as I walk up, Landon is telling some story and waving his hands around in elaborate gestures. I can’t tell if the rest of them are laughing at his story or at Maddie, who’s interrupting every few sentences to swat at her boyfriend and tell him to stop exaggerating. I murmur a hello as I sit at the end of the table next to Brie, and the others echo it back at me. But then Landon starts talking again, and I’m able to settle in without attracting much attention.

I occupy myself by eating my muffin as quietly as possible, keeping my head down and being careful not to get any of the crumbs on Brie’s scarf. Luckily, Brie seems to realize that I’m too nervous to chat, because she leaves me alone and doesn’t try to drag me into any conversation.

I’m almost finished with my meal when I hear a soft
thunk, thunk, thunk
. Glancing down, I find Seth’s seeing eye dog at my feet, her tail thudding against the leg of the table as she wags a greeting. My stomach drops, but the muffin starts rising up, and I swallow hard to keep my meal in place. I keep my eyes glued to the dog, knowing it’d be a mistake to look up at the face of Seth, who’s standing in his usual spot right next to her.

“You’re late again,” Brie says in a mock-accusing tone. “And you’re not at
all
fashionable this time.”

Seth lets out a sound that’s half groan, half growl. “Dammit, Landon. You messed with my clothes drawer again, didn’t you?”

I tear my eyes from the ground and glance at Landon, who’s not even trying to hide his shit-eating grin. “Come on, man. You know I’d never pick on a blind dude.”

Brie attempts to muffle a laugh with her palm. “Unless you’ve suddenly developed a taste for unicorn shirts, then, yeah, I think it’s safe to say Landon’s messing with you again.”

“Seriously?” Seth says. He plucks at the front of his shirt, which is bright purple and has a hot-pink unicorn prancing across a rainbow. “Not cool, Landon. I’m never going to get a girlfriend if you keep this up.”

Brie finally loses it and busts out laughing, and the others at the table quickly join her. Seth just shakes his head, but a smile slowly creeps across his lips. After seeing a pained scowl glued to his face for the long weeks of the trial, it’s strange seeing him amused.

“Please,” Brie says as she picks at her bran muffin. “You could have any girl at this school, and you know it.”