AFTER THE FUNERAL
It’s been two days since Shane’s funeral. When I walk into school for the first time since the accident, I feel sick. Part of me could puke, part of me wants to sleep, and part of me is drained, like someone attached a hose to me and sucked out all the happiness. I don’t go to my locker first, and instead walk to the band room.
As I head through the double doors, I’m shocked to see the whole band scattered about the room whispering quietly. Shane’s drum set glares at me, silent and waiting to be played. Two drumsticks rest on top, right where he left them. I run my fingers along the edge of the bass drum, willing him to appear, wishing for the impossible.
“Stevie, take a seat,” Mr. Abella says like he’s coaxing a baby bird out of its nest. The plastic chair is extra hard when I sit, and no matter what I can’t get comfortable. I glance at Drew. He stares into space, like his body is here but his mind, spirit, and soul are somewhere else.
“I’m glad you’re all back at school.” Mr. Abella straightens his glasses, eyeing Drew and me. His voice is unsteady, and his eyes are drawn, like he barely slept. “The principal says you are free to use this space all day if you need to. There will be a counselor here if anyone needs to talk. I’m here to talk too, if you need…”
“Fuck this.”
The entire band turns to Drew’s careless voice.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Abella says, taking a small step forward
“I said.” Drew raises his voice. “Fuck. This.”
“Drew, I know you’re upset…” Mr. Abella starts to say something about grief, but Drew interrupts him.
“Upset? Mr. Abella, seriously? Upset? I’d be upset if someone dented my Jeep in the parking lot. My best friend is gone. And it’s on me. I don’t think there’s a word for what I am right now. So yeah. Fuck. This.”
“Stop it,” I say under my breath.
“Stop what?”
He slumps in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and his hair is in his face. His shirt is sort of tucked in, like he was in the middle of getting dressed and forgot to finish. I don’t recognize the look in his eyes, his normal sparkle replaced by an icy stare. It’s like I’m looking at a stranger and it’s terrifying.
Everyone gapes at us, and a wave of utter sadness washes over me. My eyes blur with tears and I try my best to swallow them back, but it’s no use.
“You barely knew him,” Drew says, his eyes slicing through me, stinging my flesh.
I knew him. Maybe it was only for a little while, but I knew him. And he knew me, better than any friend has before. A once-in-a-lifetime connection that’s gone forever, that I’ll never get back. I miss him so much that it’s hard to exist, to sit in this chair and listen to Drew minimize it, like it was nothing. What I’m about to say will cross a line, but I can’t stop myself. The words scream from inside my head, demanding to be let out.
“I wish he won that coin toss.”
Drew stands so fast that his chair flies out from underneath him crashing into Shane’s drum set. Cymbals spin on the floor and the drumsticks roll down the aisle. The snare wobbles back and forth on its side before it stops completely.
“Drew, maybe you should take five,” Mr. Abella suggests, but it’s more like an order.
“Fine,” Drew says before looking at me. “It wasn’t a game, Stevie.”
Drew heads for Shane’s drum set and quietly puts everything back in place. He grabs his bag and jacket, his bloodshot eyes glancing back at the drums before he heads out of class, slamming the door behind him. A slow murmur flows through the band room, making my head pound. The bell for first period rings, but no one moves.
* * *
The day is a blur, and once it’s over I sit on the curb, stretching my legs on the concrete. Since the funeral Mom has insisted on picking me up after school, but she’s not here yet. The olive-green loaner Jeep is parked in Drew’s usual spot. When I look closer, I see he’s inside. His head rests on the steering wheel and I’m not sure if he’s moving. A panic rises in my chest and I’m about to go check on him when his shoulders jerk up and down. The car shakes as he picks his head up and slams his fists on the steering wheel. He takes a deep breath and looks to his left and then to his right. I keep perfectly still, never taking my eyes off him. His chest heaves, slower now. He wipes his eyes on the inside of his sweatshirt and runs his fingers through his hair. I stand to go to him, to take back those awful words I said, but a black town car pulls up beside the Jeep. An older man gets out wearing a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. I recognize him from the Netflix documentary and music blogs—Don Mason. He knocks on the window of the Jeep as Drew flings the door open, almost knocking over his dad.
“Fuck you,” Drew yells, pushing Don’s shoulders. “Go home. You don’t live here anymore.”
Don says something I can’t quite make out and Drew lunges at him again, but this time, Don catches him and wraps his arms around his back. He smooths Drew’s hair back, saying something in his ear and then Drew falls into him, sobbing and shaking, right in the middle of the parking lot. A couple of people stare, like I am, but mostly everyone gives them their space.
Don repeats the same string of words into Drew’s ear and as I squint, I can read his lips.
I got you.
Drew steps back from his father and wipes his face on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. My eyes lock with his, and he flashes me a half smile, an apology smile. I step off the curb to apologize first, for lying about the bathroom, for the despicable thing I said in class. But Drew looks away and gets into the town car with his dad, leaving me and the Jeep alone in the lot.
TAILS
CHAPTER 4
Stevie
MILLBROOK HOSPITAL
Drew and I navigate a maze of sterile white halls, sickness wafting through the air. We reach Shane’s room, and I hesitate at the door, afraid of what’s behind it. Drew nudges my arm and we walk inside, my legs weak. The room is all linoleum floors and white bedding, machines and wires. Lainey sits on the edge of a hospital bed, half hidden by a flimsy sea-green curtain. Her stringy hair obscures her face, and her boot shakes against the metal frame.
“Lainey, please,” Kathy says from a chair in the corner, her voice broken and tired. Lainey steadies her foot but doesn’t respond. Drew and I approach them slowly. I try to take in a breath, but it gets stuck somewhere deep in my lungs.
Once we’re on the other side of the curtain, my breath shoots through my mouth, my chest heaving fast. The bed is empty. No Shane. No one speaks or even looks at us. I lose my balance, swaying into Drew who steadies me with his arm.
“Where is he?” Drew asks, his voice shaky.
Kathy and Lainey turn their heads slowly, like it’s an effort to acknowledge us.
“CT scan,” Lainey says, her voice flat.
Kathy glances at Lainey then turns her attention to Drew, tears filling her eyes. She pushes them off her face and takes a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry, Kathy,” Drew says, his voice bending and breaking. “I didn’t mean … I … I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Kathy stands, pulling Drew close for a hug, but he swallows hard, his hair hanging over his eyes. She’s right, it’s not his fault. It’s mine. They were speeding back to the audition to bring me that neck strap. Shane was in that car because of me.
“Oh Stevie,” Kathy says as her eyes connect with mine over Drew’s shoulder. She releases him and envelops me in a rose-scented hug.
“At least Shane wore his seatbelt,” Kathy says as she resumes her spot in the corner chair. “The officer said he wouldn’t be alive if he didn’t have it on.”
I have to sit down. But there are no other chairs, so I lean against the wall with Drew.
“He’s in an induced coma,” Lainey says, her foot twitching again.
“For how long?” I ask, my eyes shifting from Kathy to Lainey. Lainey shrugs.
“When’s he going to wake up?” Drew asks. But no one answers.
HEADS
CHAPTER 5
Stevie
AFTER THE FUNERAL
I turn up the music, pushing my headphones close to my ears in an attempt to block out the world. The day of the accident runs on a loop through my mind, and I hate myself a bit more each time around. I pull my knees to my chest, tears dotting my leggings. Mom and Joey are out on errands and I’m alone on the living room couch, as usual. No word from Sarah all day, our friendship officially a joke.
I think about eating, something I haven’t done much of since the funeral. The kitchen is fully stocked but nothing sounds remotely appetizing. I turn the music up even louder, the notes and chords hurting, likely damaging my eardrums. But I only cry harder because for the first time in my life music isn’t helping. Nothing is.
A hand touches my shoulder and I jump, my heart flying up to my throat. Dad stands in front of me, then kneels down by my side with a tissue. I pull the headphones off as he blots my face like he used to when I skinned a knee or fell off my bike.
“What are you doing here?” Dad should be in Boston.
“I left as soon as I could.”
He sits beside me, dropping a green duffel bag on the rug. His Jets hat is clipped to the strap next to an airline tag. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and the tiny wrinkles around his mouth appear deeper than I remember.
“What do you mean, you left? Isn’t the game in a couple days?”
Dad sighs, and a familiar unease settles in my bones. We’re leaving again, I know it. On top of everything, I’m going to have to pack up my room, trek somewhere new, and start again. I don’t have it in me this time.
“I told them my family needed me.” He shifts to me and his eyes go soft in a way I’ve never seen before. “You’re more important than a football game.”
My heart swells at the words I’ve longed to hear my entire life. And then all at once I’m nervous Dad will lose everything. I can’t be responsible for one more thing, especially after sneaking around with Drew behind Dad’s back. Especially after the accident. I’m not a daughter worth risking everything for.
“Will you lose your job?”
“Probably.” I brace myself for the news, but then he smiles like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “But I’m thinking I might try for a college gig in the area. I took all the NFL jobs for the money, to provide a comfortable life for you and Joey. But we will be fine if I take a pay cut, and no amount of money is worth being away from my family.”
“Wait, what?” I don’t deserve this, not now. Not when the one person I want to share this news with is gone. “Why?”
“What happened to Shane … I can’t ever lose you like that. It’s enough with the traveling and moving.” Dad puts his arm around my shoulder, and I lean into him, a lump forming in my throat. “I’m so sorry you lost your friend.”
Tears fall down my cheeks again and Dad rocks me, squeezing my shoulder, shushing in my ear like I’m a little kid. I wipe my face with my sweatshirt sleeve and look into Dad’s blue eyes.
“Dad,” I say, dreading these next words, words that have to come out of my mouth to make everything right. “I was sneaking around with Drew. I’m so sorry I lied.”
I expect disappointment to crash over Dad’s face, but instead he looks defeated, lost in his own sadness.
“I don’t like that you lied, but I also should have been around more. And I should have listened to you more. I want you to know that from now on, I’m listening.”
That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear.
Still, my chest is heavy, the weight of my actions making it hard to breathe.
“I was in the bathroom,” I say, my whole body tensing, my breath shallow. “I told them I went home, that I bailed on the audition. That’s why they got in the car. To go after me. To convince me to go back inside. But Dad, I was in the bathroom the whole time. I did audition. While Shane lay in the middle of the road dying, I was in the middle of a pointless saxophone solo.”
I can’t catch my breath, but I also can’t stop talking, the confession tumbling from my mouth.
“They flipped a coin for me, to decide which one of them would get to ask me out. I was so pissed, Dad. So beyond pissed. So I lied and I hate myself for it. If I didn’t lie, then maybe—”
“Stevie, stop.” Dad’s eyes are on my side, fully and unconditionally. I’m still struggling to breathe as he pulls me in close and rubs circles on my back. “Slow down. Take a deep breath.”
Dad counts to ten and I inhale, soaking the shoulder of his polo with tears until my body calms. He slowly releases me and looks me in the eye.
“Those boys did a thoughtless thing flipping a coin, that I won’t excuse. You had every right to be upset. You did the best you could.”
“But what if—”
“There are no what-ifs.” Dad puts both hands on my shoulders. “Only what is. You did not cause that accident. Do you understand me?”
I nod, sniffling, but I can’t stop replaying it all in my head, rewinding to the beginning and praying for the chance to start over.
“I love you, Stevie girl, you need to know that.” He kisses the top of my head.
“I love you too.” I bury my face into his shoulder. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“This hurts too much. Why does this hurt so much?”
Dad sighs and smooths hair away from my forehead.
“You really cared about him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“I wish I could take your pain away. I would take it all from you in a heartbeat if I could,” Dad says, his voice breaking. “But the only way out of pain is through, and it might take you a while to get to the other side. But I promise you there’s another side waiting for you. And when you feel stuck, I’m here.”
A sob escapes my mouth and lands on his shoulder. He pulls me to him, hugging me tight, and says, “From now on, I’m here.”
TAILS
CHAPTER 6
Stevie
MILLBROOK HOSPITAL
“Doritos or Cheetos?” Drew asks, holding two snack bags.
“Neither,” I say, my eyes fixed on Shane. Kathy and Lainey went home for a shower and a change of clothes. “Not hungry.”
The room is dark except for the blinking lights of the machines keeping Shane alive. Tubes and wires stick out of him, and a ventilator controls his breathing, his chest rising with the whoosh of the machine. His eyes are closed, and his arms are still by his side. A hospital blanket is pulled up to his torso, and a huge bandage covers most of his forehead. His leg is raised above the bed in a cast. Drew pulls a chair next to mine and opens both bags, the fiery Dorito cheese stinging my nose.
“You should eat something.”
I wave him away. He crunches on a Dorito and I’m struck by what a loud chewer he is. I never would have thought Drew Mason would be a loud chewer.
“He’s going to wake up, right?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. “I mean, once they bring him out of the coma, he’s going to be okay, right?”
“If I were the one in that hospital bed and Shane were sitting here, he’d say … yes, he’ll be okay, I know he will.” Drew sighs heavy and slow. “But I’m the one sitting here and he’s in that damn bed and I have no fucking clue if he’ll wake up.”
Drew puts the snack bags on a tray by the bed. “For the record, I’d trade places with him if I could.”
I reach out and place my hand in Shane’s open palm and run my fingers over the drumming calluses. He’s warm and present, like he’s here with us.
“Do you think he can hear us?”
“God, I hope not,” Drew says. “If he can, he’s probably making fun of us in his head right now. Like, stop being so dramatic, guys, it’s all good.”
I laugh a little. A drop of liquid drips down the IV bag and slides through the tube to Shane’s hand.
“Why did this happen?”
“I knew it was a gamble, trying to pass that truck.�
� Drew’s voice breaks as he shifts away from me. “He pulled the wheel at the last minute. Probably saved my life … again.” Drew’s empty eyes connect with mine.
“It’s my fault,” I say, never breaking eye contact. “If I didn’t drop that neck strap, if I wasn’t so careless, he never would have asked you to bring it to me.”
“You weren’t the one driving the car.”
“You weren’t the reason he was on the road in the first place.”
We stare at each other, then shift our gaze to Shane, his body desperately clinging to life.
“Maybe it’s no one’s fault,” Drew says, sighing.
“Then why did this happen?”
“I don’t know.” Drew hides behind his hair and sniffs in, his nose twitching.
“Drew?”
He clears his throat, looking at me with bloodshot eyes.
“Shitty things just happen. We try to make sense of it to make ourselves feel better. To attach some sort of meaning to the darkness. But sometimes there is no bigger meaning. There’s no why. There’s only what is. And like I said, this is a shitty thing.”
“Shane would say there’s always some bigger plan.” My finger traces his palm. “He believes in everything.”
“I know,” Drew says, gazing at his friend. “What do you believe?”
“I don’t know.” I give Shane’s hand a little squeeze. Maybe if he wakes up, I’ll have an answer.
HEADS
CHAPTER 7
Stevie
AFTER THE FUNERAL
“I brought you a surprise,” Dad says, standing. I’m still processing the news. We’re staying in town. For the first time in my life, I’m staying. “Thought you could use some cheering up.”
Dad walks to the front door and opens it, saying, “Come on in.”
“Shit, this house is big,” Sarah says, gazing up at the ceiling. At first the sight of her doesn’t seem real. She’s in an oversize sweatshirt and black leggings. Her short hair is back in a ponytail except for the silver streaks that hang by her face. She locks eyes with me and cocks her head to the side, her face filled with concern and sympathy.
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