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Authors: Lisa Ann Sandell
Tags: Fiction
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would deafen bats. Still, he just stares without speaking. “Would you say something?” she screams.
“Cora, your mother told you to come home directly afterschool,” he mutters halfheartedly, then turns away. Seriously? That’s all he can muster? “Go inside,” he says, not directing the last part to anyone in particular.
I feel like spitting. “Wow, this is your united front? Well done!” And without looking at either of them, I run into the house, slamming the front door behind me. I let out a shriek, releasing some of the frustration and fury and fly up the stairs, into my bedroom, slamming that door, as well. I wrap my earphones around my head, and begin to play my most pissed-off playlist.
How dare she! How can she even think that locking me up in the house is okay? That I’ll just take it?
For so long she filled me up with so much hatred for Damian. She taught me to blame him for Nate’s accident, and it was easy to do. But now I’m not so sure. Nate was behind the wheel that night, after all.
Oh my gosh, how can she be so wrong about everything? My mind is spinning furiously, but suddenly, with a pause in the music, I feel as though all the clouds in my mind have suddenly cleared, letting a shaft of pure light in. All of us were wrong. None of us knew Nate—not Mom or Dad, or even me.
I pull off the headphones and tiptoe to the door. I do not want to see either of them. I turn the knob as slowly as I can so as not to make a sound. I check both ways down the hall, making sure neither of my parents is about. The dull murmur of the television travels up the corridor from the den. I can hearmy mother bumping around in the kitchen, slamming pots and pans onto the countertop. It is safe.
I slink out of my room and down the hall until I am standing before Nate’s door. I haven’t been inside since the night he died. I take a deep breath, as though steeling myself. Then I start to turn the knob. It is cool to the touch.
Suddenly, I snap my hand back. No, I can’t do it, can’t go into his room and remember. I’ve had enough of Nate and the memories and all the emotions he always dredges up. I don’t want to think about this, about him anymore.
I run back to my room, and with relief, replace my earphones. I’ve learned enough for one night. Discovering that I’ve never known Nate at all, learning that he was an artist who made beautiful things and then was lost to me—it is too much. I let the music carry me off. I’ll never let that happen with anyone else. I will know the ones I love.
Chapter Five
P uh-leeese, Cora! You have to go with me!”
Just two weeks away, the Homecoming dance is on the tips of everybody’s tongues and at the fore of Rachel’s mind. I don’t have a date or a dress or a desire to attend. Rachel has a dress, but no date, and she fully expects me to go to the dance with her. She hounds me about it relentlessly. She has made begging a daily habit in homeroom, pleading with me to come to the dance with her. She has given up on my company at any other school events, especially the sporty kind. I’ve told her that there was no way, no how I would ever subject myself to sitting in the freezing cold, watching a bunch of guys beat up on one another. Rachel just shrugs her shoulders helplessly, shaking her head, unable to comprehend my complete lack of school spirit or interest, probably unable to understand how she got saddled with such a lame best friend.
But I am really trying to be a better friend, trying to restore some semblance of normalcy to our friendship. So I’ve made a decision.
“Okay, Rach, I’ll go to the dance with you,” I tell her, not quite prepared for the explosion of hysterics.
“What!” Rachel shrieks. “You will?” She looks so happy, I have to smile with her. “Oh my gosh, we have to go shopping! We have to get you a dress! Oh, thank you thank you thank you!” She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me way too tight.
“There’re
“Cora, your mother told you to come home directly afterschool,” he mutters halfheartedly, then turns away. Seriously? That’s all he can muster? “Go inside,” he says, not directing the last part to anyone in particular.
I feel like spitting. “Wow, this is your united front? Well done!” And without looking at either of them, I run into the house, slamming the front door behind me. I let out a shriek, releasing some of the frustration and fury and fly up the stairs, into my bedroom, slamming that door, as well. I wrap my earphones around my head, and begin to play my most pissed-off playlist.
How dare she! How can she even think that locking me up in the house is okay? That I’ll just take it?
For so long she filled me up with so much hatred for Damian. She taught me to blame him for Nate’s accident, and it was easy to do. But now I’m not so sure. Nate was behind the wheel that night, after all.
Oh my gosh, how can she be so wrong about everything? My mind is spinning furiously, but suddenly, with a pause in the music, I feel as though all the clouds in my mind have suddenly cleared, letting a shaft of pure light in. All of us were wrong. None of us knew Nate—not Mom or Dad, or even me.
I pull off the headphones and tiptoe to the door. I do not want to see either of them. I turn the knob as slowly as I can so as not to make a sound. I check both ways down the hall, making sure neither of my parents is about. The dull murmur of the television travels up the corridor from the den. I can hearmy mother bumping around in the kitchen, slamming pots and pans onto the countertop. It is safe.
I slink out of my room and down the hall until I am standing before Nate’s door. I haven’t been inside since the night he died. I take a deep breath, as though steeling myself. Then I start to turn the knob. It is cool to the touch.
Suddenly, I snap my hand back. No, I can’t do it, can’t go into his room and remember. I’ve had enough of Nate and the memories and all the emotions he always dredges up. I don’t want to think about this, about him anymore.
I run back to my room, and with relief, replace my earphones. I’ve learned enough for one night. Discovering that I’ve never known Nate at all, learning that he was an artist who made beautiful things and then was lost to me—it is too much. I let the music carry me off. I’ll never let that happen with anyone else. I will know the ones I love.
Chapter Five
P uh-leeese, Cora! You have to go with me!”
Just two weeks away, the Homecoming dance is on the tips of everybody’s tongues and at the fore of Rachel’s mind. I don’t have a date or a dress or a desire to attend. Rachel has a dress, but no date, and she fully expects me to go to the dance with her. She hounds me about it relentlessly. She has made begging a daily habit in homeroom, pleading with me to come to the dance with her. She has given up on my company at any other school events, especially the sporty kind. I’ve told her that there was no way, no how I would ever subject myself to sitting in the freezing cold, watching a bunch of guys beat up on one another. Rachel just shrugs her shoulders helplessly, shaking her head, unable to comprehend my complete lack of school spirit or interest, probably unable to understand how she got saddled with such a lame best friend.
But I am really trying to be a better friend, trying to restore some semblance of normalcy to our friendship. So I’ve made a decision.
“Okay, Rach, I’ll go to the dance with you,” I tell her, not quite prepared for the explosion of hysterics.
“What!” Rachel shrieks. “You will?” She looks so happy, I have to smile with her. “Oh my gosh, we have to go shopping! We have to get you a dress! Oh, thank you thank you thank you!” She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me way too tight.
“There’re
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