Page 37 of The Last to Let Go
I dab my eyes with my sleeve before any of those traitorous tears can fall. I try to rearrange my face so that it’s smiling, but my voice sounds all weird and mangled when I speak again. “I’m fine. I’m seriously, totally, completely fine.”
“No you’re not.”
“I think it’s just this damn exam,” I tell her, slamming my book closed too loudly. Her face turns so open and soft as she gazes at me, no hint of a smile on her lips, no joke on deck in her mind. “Stop looking at me like that, I am fine. Robinson has me freaked out! That’s all, okay?” I realize I’m raising my voice only when this boy at the next table swings around in his seat, a crazed look of study stress in his eyes.
“Hey, do you mind having your breakdown a little quieter, please?”
Dani spins around in her chair so she’s face-to-face with this kid. She stands then, shouldering her bag, and starts collecting up my things in her arms before I even know what’s happening. “Come on,” she tells me. As we pass the boy at the next table, she extends her arm all the way and holds up her middle finger inches from his nose.
My pulse quickens, a dull throb echoing its beat in my temples. I’m a little scared this is about to blow up into something dangerous—because that’s what usually happens—but the boy only shakes his head and looks back down into his open textbook. Dani pushes forward, full speed ahead, walking tall, taking long, confident strides out through the doors of the library.
“Dani,” I call after her, trying my best to follow behind her as she leads the way down the hall. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that, you know.”
She stops and turns around so abruptly I almost run right into her. “Sure I did. He was being an asshole.”
That’s when I realize something else about Dani. She isn’t just beautiful and cool and smart and funny—she’s tough. Like, the real kind of tough. Not the insecure, defensive, covering-up-fear-and-weakness kind of tough, which is what I’ve always thought of Aaron, and Dad, even. Or maybe that’s what I’ve always secretly thought of myself, too.
She’s the real thing, more real than I could ever hope to be.
“Come on, let’s get some air.” She grabs my hand like she’s been reaching for my hand for years, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I let her lead me through the corridor and down the stairs—I think I might let her lead me anywhere.
It’s only once we’re sitting outside on the bench under this enormous tree that she does let go, gently placing my hand in my own lap, leaving my fingertips electrified. “Okay, you have my undivided attention. Go. Tell me.”
“What, are you being my therapist now?”
Her face remains still, like a frozen pond. “No, I’m being your friend. I know I’m always joking around and everything, and you really don’t know me very well, but I’m serious when it comes to serious stuff. So, what’s going on?”
“Nothing, really. I’m just upset because I think I’m going to have to drop a couple classes.” Not a complete lie, anyway.
She purses her lips as she considers this. “Would it really be so bad to have a little extra time? Especially when you can spend it hanging out with your awesome new friends, like me?”
“Not when you put it like that,” I say, trying not to smile too much.
She somehow manages to wait the perfect amount of time before speaking again. “Is that really all that’s wrong?”
“Not exactly,” I admit.
“Well, I’m here. Happy to listen.”
I open my mouth, no idea what I’m going to say. “My dad,” I hear my voice tell her, seemingly without the permission of my mind. “He died a few months ago. Unexpectedly. And...” I swallow hard, somehow convincing myself I’m telling enough of the truth. “It’s been really tough. My little sister isn’t doing well with it, and my older brother moved back home to help out. We’re all still adjusting. And changing schools right now—even though this is what I wanted—it’s just been hard.”Having you sitting next to me like this, looking at me like that, is also hard, I don’t say.
After a moment of silence her voice cuts through; solidly, smoothly, she asks, “What happened to your dad?”
I guess I’ve never thought of what happened as something that happened tohim. I’ve been thinking of it as something that happened to our mom, and to me, and to Callie and Aaron. “He was stabbed.” True enough. “He was a cop.” Also true, although I’m fully aware that grouping those two facts together creates an entirely inaccurate picture of what happened. It’s an omission, just on the safe side of a harmless white lie.
She nods, and chews on her lower lip as she watches me. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “One of my uncles was in the military. He died overseas—was killed, I mean. It’s been so hard on my aunt and my little cousins, the whole family. I know it’s not exactly the same. How’s your mom holding up?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure,” I tell her.
Then she wraps her arm around my shoulders and inches me closer.
I think I might go into cardiac arrest.
There are these little whispers in my head telling me I should leave, telling me I’m letting her get too close, telling me how dangerous this is. Those are the voices that guide me in everything I do; they’ve always been dependable and sturdy. But right now I want them to shut the hell up. I lean my head against her shoulder. I let myself stay that way—shelets me stay that way. And we sit here. For once I really don’t give a damn about those voices, and I don’t care what anyone who might be passing by thinks of me.
The afternoon breeze flows around us and up through the leaves, rustling gently, drowning out the noise of people coming and going on the pathway that lines the lawn behind us. I relax. So calm I could almost fall asleep, except for the other part, which is that I also feel wide awake. It’s in this moment that I actuallywantto tell Dani everything. With that thought there’s a strange sensation in my stomach. Something like a knot being untied in the center of my body that starts radiating outward, untying smaller knots everywhere. In my throat. In my brain. In my hands and fingers, in my arms and legs, and heart.
“You think I’m a total freak?” I finally ask, lifting my head off her shoulder.
