But this game was quick to end.
“I got a call.” Rebecca sat next to him. She stuck a spoon into her bowl, tossing bits of clam around before finally raising her pale face. “Nina passed away this morning.”
She watched him as his chowder grew cold. “Benji?”
He stood from the table, leaving his bowl untouched.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Benji, I—”
He rushed to his room, slammed the door, and leaned against the wall with gritted teeth. Rage swept through his bones, leaving his blood boiling. He wanted to be sad. He wanted to sink to the floor in tears for such a loss, or at least for a best friend’s loss. But instead, he was petrified.
His eyes shot to the red envelope, sitting crisply on his desk. If Nina really did predict her death, he thought, then what does this mean for me? He lifted the envelope. Staring at the red in his hands, he remembered the minimal times he spent with Nina. All the dinners they had with her silence at the Koi household. All the times he saw her leave her bedroom after napping through the day. All the times she threw out her food. Not hungry.
How long had she known about her death?
If only he could have one last conversation. To sit in front of her and ask if she was okay. If she was really able to handle the stress of all the knowledge resting on her shoulders. No one could guess how much she knew. How many thoughts haunted her mind.
He shut his eyes, thinking back to how calm she was when she announced her death. She lay there in the hospital that day, sharing the news like inviting him for tea. So calm. So accepting.
Biting his lip, he leaned over and jammed the envelope into the bottom drawer of his desk. “No.” He slammed the drawer shut. “I won’t do that to myself.”
* * *
It was Sunday now. The sweet aroma of melted caramel encased him as the door shut, trapping him in the brick building. Seaside Cafe was unusually dark today. The only source of light was a hint of gray sky through one tiny window by the back entrance, where Mayor Perkins and he sat only three days ago.
“Well, look who it is!” Lauren messed with his hair until it covered his face. Benji let her joke around for a while, but eventually stepped back and flicked his hair away from his face, revealing two clouded eyes. He stared at Lauren as she laughed, but his thoughts were somewhere else. When she saw his face, her humor died. “Sit down,” she said, scurrying to the other side of the room. “It’s on the house today.”
Benji took a seat at the nearest table. There was no one else in the room, but it made sense. He couldn’t imagine how anyone would be in the mood for coffee, considering the cafe was in the heart of town, Wishville’s social spot.
How are Sam and Chloe taking the news?
Lauren slid a stubby cup in front of him and stepped back with her hands on her hips, grinning. Benji watched the fluid dance in the cup.
He wrapped his fingers around the handle and took a sip. Bitter.
“This is coffee.”
She messed with his hair from above once again, and when Benji swatted her hand away, immediately slipped into the seat across from him. Relentless, that girl. “Threw an extra shot in there, too.” She winked. “Plus, what’s the harm? I bet that drink the other day permanently stunted you.”
“Why?” The smooth coffee slipped down his throat, and for a moment, although brief, his thoughts of Nina drifted away.
“I’ve known you forever.” Lauren chuckled. “Of course I know you have a chocolate allergy. What else is there to drink?”
“Had.” Benji took a large gulp. It stung his throat. “I grew out of that six years ago.”
“Well I know you like coffee more than hot chocolate, so there.” She raised her chin with a hint of pride in her eyes. “Plus, you look like you just crawled out of bed.”
“Lauren!” It was Ricky, standing behind the cash register with shaky hands. “You’re not gonna help me here?”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up. There’s not even a line.” She turned back to Benji, waiting for some kind of response. When she didn’t get one, she spoke anyway. “Hey, I know why you’re here.”
“You do?”
“Of course. What better place to gloom than an old coffee shop by the shore?”
“I—well—I don’t think I’ll be ready to go back to school tomorrow.”
“Ah, I remember those days.” She set her elbow on the table and gazed through the corner of her eyes. “Procrastinating on school projects. All-nighters.” She shook her head, laughing gently. “I’m sure glad I’m finally out of high school.”
Benji sighed. Here she goes.
“You think eighth grade is hard?” She laughed. “Wait until you have finals and midterms. High school sucks.”
“We already do.”
“Like they’re actually challenging.” Lauren rubbed her forehead. “Oh gosh. To think we considered them a big deal back then.” She looked at the ceiling, water in her eyes. “High school was fun. As soon as you’re a freshman you’ll realize how lame middle school is.”
Her words struck something inside him, and he didn’t know why. The color drained from his face.
“Sorry, not the right time.”
“That’s not it.”
When he looked at her, Lauren’s blue eyes whipped around like the ocean waves, searching for answers. Perhaps that was one thing they had in common.
“It’s nothing.” Benji stood. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Lauren leaned over the table, eyeing his cup. “You hardly touched it.”
Benji paused, staring at his cup. His eyes watered, but he quickly blinked the moisture away. “I think I should’ve stayed home today. Sorry.”
“Right.” Her voice was dull. “Tell Rebecca I said hi.”
“Sure.”
“And Benji?”
He peeked over his shoulder, hand on the door. “Yeah?”
“Try not to think too hard. I guarantee you’re not the only one stuck in the past this weekend.”
Benji tried his best to pull a smile. His heart twinged as the tips of his lips came to a curve, and there was nothing more relieving than dropping it after Lauren gave him a thumbs up and headed back behind the counter.
He couldn’t remember the last time he left Seaside Cafe unsatisfied. Lauren had always known the right things to say to cheer him up. He had always come to the coffee shop to get advice, or simply to calm his mind, but today, even that wouldn’t work. And as much as he tried to convince himself that he could find a magic potion, a blow that would instantly remove all kinds of stress, he knew there was no such thing. He’d have to deal with this himself. All of it.
Benji was still trapped in thought when he saw him.
The man’s hair curled over his head like little whips of cream, shaking with each step. He walked on his feet lightly, but there was a heaviness in his eyes that weighed him. He stopped on the pathway lining the courtyard, waiting for Benji to pass.
Oliver Stricket. The town crazy man.
Since Benji hardly came to the square on Sundays, it’d been years since he last saw him. The last time was around three years ago, during a trip for dinner at Chowdies. He remembered how Rebecca nodded at Oliver without a smile.
He was afraid of the man. After hearing the stories of his high school fights and crazy beliefs, Benji titled him psycho. But as he passed him today, he couldn’t bring himself to imagine him as the same man in the stories.
Seeing that Benji was not inclined to move aside, Oliver stepped around him.
Benji was unable to peel his eyes away. Unable to blink. He watched the man pull his wrist to his chin to read the time, his silver watch sparkling in the gloom of the clouds. As he walked by, Benji spun and faced his back. He opened his mouth to speak as the distance between them grew, but his throat was deserted.<
br />
The words refusing to leave him, Benji continued on his way home.
CHAPTER 7
kois
It came too early.
He had seen it coming from miles away. Nina had always been a clock ticking toward her own destruction. It was simply unfortunate luck that the clock broke before reaching its end.
James held the pages tightly in front of him. His favorite book, but all he could see was a mash of random letters scattered across the page. One giant blur. His breathing heightened, and he leaned over, thrusting the book across the room. It slapped the wall before landing on the floor where it remained.
Silence.
For a while he sat there in bed, watching the book as if it might move. He wished he could be frozen. That the world could stop for a moment. It was only Friday when he understood the strength of time. How it controlled him. Locked a tight grip around his neck and made the air hard to breathe, but never too hard to kill him. He was another kid trapped in a world ruled by time. Dependent on it.
And it was sickening.
He gulped, then stepped out of bed. The floor nearly burned his feet with its coldness. Each step shot chills through his spine. He remembered all the fun moments with his best friends. All the time spent on his puzzles. Reading at the dinner table. He remembered school. He remembered his scores.
“I thought I was such a genius.” James reached for the door knob. It made himself freeze, so he stood there in the dark room. One hand urging him to leave, the other trying to drag him back to bed. “I knew she didn’t have much time left. But I ignored it. I ignored it, thinking it might go away.” He took his hand off the doorknob and rubbed his face hard. His eyes were sore, bruised. He leaned against the door and let his breath stutter.
“Of all people,” James said. “Why her?”
He saw the book again, sitting there on the floor. Sharpner’s Peak. The book that with a quick touch could extract him from reality. Every time he’d open those pages in silence, the world would stop spinning. It’d be him, alone, stuck in a universe where he wasn’t constantly struggling between selfishness and understanding. He didn’t have to think about Nina. He didn’t have to think about his scores.
A knock came from the door, and he stumbled away from it. His breathing went from a simple unsteadiness into a rapid fire as it swung open.
Mr. Koi stood in the doorway. There was no suit. No tie. He had on a pair of plain khaki shorts and a shirt James hadn’t seen him wear in years. He looked at James, heard his boy’s breathing, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.
That’s when James saw how red they were. The man he looked up to. The man who taught him how to read before his peers could even recognize a letter. The man who taught him the weight of words. The man who taught him not to cry from insensitive remarks. That same man. But he was crying.
He took a deep step forward and wrapped his arms around James. He was warm, and James could hear his heart beating.
“Hey.” Mr. Koi tightened his grip. “I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER 8
school
The challenge wasn’t handling the death of a child. It was facing the friends of a boy whose world had been struck by a meteor.
Chloe pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn one. Fourth grade, maybe.
Mr. Trenton spoke in a monotone voice, the room as colorless as ever. She traced her fingers along the shapes she had pencil-carved into her desk. All she could hear clearly was a faint scraping of chalk against the board, some muttering about parts of speech, and that was it. At some point in the lesson she remembered Mr. Trenton’s strict rule about not wearing hoods in class, but she couldn’t bring herself to take it off.
Benji was only a few desks away, arms as stiff as boards. He fidgeted with his own fingers, as though working his way through a hard decision. For a moment he looked back at her. His gray eyes darkened to the point where they almost looked black from the gloom of the class. He dragged them away.
Sam, on the other hand, had her musical theory workbook spread out in front of her. Normally she’d work on it whenever she was bored in class, not because she enjoyed it, but because she’d rather not fall behind Audrey. But today, she had trouble doing anything more than stare at the notes. Her hands rested over the page, eyes watering. Jett turned around in his seat.
“Hey,” he whispered at her. When Sam didn’t look at him, Jett turned to Chloe with a frown. “Is she seriously not over it yet?”
Chloe stopped admiring her desk carvings. “Are you stupid?” It took a lot to make Chloe raise her voice, yet she did it today without even realizing it.
Mr. Trenton’s mumbling came to a halt, and his chalk froze over the board. The perfect opportunity for Jett to raise his voice.
“Wow, Mortimer getting all feisty today.” He leaned back in his seat. “I don’t get the gloom this morning. He’s a lucky kid. I mean, what’s a man gotta do to get some time off school?”
Sam dropped her pen. She snatched Jett by the hair and jerked his neck back.
“What the—” He rubbed the back of his neck and shot her a twisted look. “What was that for?”
Chloe leaned forward. “You act like you don’t care!”
Jett slid his chair further from Sam, guarding his back closely. “Well it’s not like I knew the girl.”
“So what?” Peyton’s hair was almost as frizzy as Sam’s today.
“It’s not just Nina.” Audrey turned from her spot in the corner. Her eyes were red. “It’s James.”
Jett chuckled. “You think I’m friends with James?”
“Really, dude?” Noah said. “Really, you choose to argue at a time like this?”
Benji’s fingers froze into fists. “Toxic,” he muttered.
“Oh, you wanna go there, Marino!”
Sam slammed a hand on her desk. “When do you learn to shut up?”
Jett shook his head with a slight tilt of his lips. “Wow.” He rolled his eyes. “Wow guys, I’m not your personal punching bag.” Something about his voice was softer this time.
Noah frowned. “That’s not the—”
“Enough!” The chalk slipped to the floor as Mr. Trenton spun to face the students. Each breath of his filled the room, and silence fell immediately. Chloe stared at her desk carvings once more, her cheeks growing red. She started this.
“I’ve heard enough. From all of you.” Mr. Trenton threw himself back into his chair. “Study hall.”
Jett frowned. “But class hardly even—”
“For goodness’ sake, find something to work on!” He leaned over his desk and ran tense fingers through his hair. “And Chloe?”
“Yeah?”
“Take off your hood.”
It was a silent day. Chloe had spent the entirety of it in a half-asleep kind of daze. Their morning study hall morphed into a period of mourning, lunch a room of children ignoring their hunger, and a final class a lesson no one could stomach.
Jett didn’t speak again. Not once. And by the time the final bell rang, he was out the door before anyone else.
Chloe biked home, the salty wind ruffling her hair, the distant crashing of the waves into the sand. Her mind was dark and empty, like the house was when she arrived.
She heated a bowl of chowder and sat at the dining room table, listening to the house hum. Sometimes she liked to imagine that the place was singing.
It was the same as every night. Chloe waiting for her sister, their home silent and dimly lit. Watching the clock’s hour arm slowly reach for the ten.
The chowder was warm.
She stuck her spoon back into the bowl, her eyes wandering to the photos on the wall in front of her. The first was a photo of her parents’ wedding. They stared into each other’s eyes, madly in love, confident their love would last until
the end of time.
There was no one waiting at home for her. Not anymore. No one asking how her day went, or what she learned in school. All she had was an overworked, exhausted sister. A sister who cared for her so much that she spent nearly every waking hour away from her.
Chloe shifted her focus to the photo next to it. She stood next to Benji in the middle, James and Sam on opposite sides of them. It was from first grade, when Chloe’s father asked for a photo of them all together during the spring festival.
“You four are so cute,” Mr. Mortimer had said with stars in his eyes.
Chloe wasn’t smiling, embarrassed that her father was snapping photos of everything. Photos of people without their permission. Photos of trees. Photos of the ocean. Photos of random cicadas clinging to bricks. He brought his camera everywhere and used it on everything.
Next to Chloe, Benji had his hands on his bare arms because he forgot to bring a jacket. Or maybe he wanted to make the day more interesting at the cost of comfort. Sam stood a weird distance from Benji, as straight as a brick, her smile too light to notice. James, on the other side of Chloe, was laughing, not because he was enjoying his time, but because a character in the book he was reading a moment ago tipped his humor.
Losing her father struck her life like a meteor. It left her family broken and burned to smoking ash. It changed her. And if it weren’t for her friends, she wasn’t sure how she’d survive.
The three of them were family to her. She cared for them more than anyone, and she’d never wish on them what she went through. She’d never wish them a meteor, no matter what.
Her eyes locked on James’s smile as she took a last bite.
The chowder was cold.
* * *
“Yes, it’s quite a pity we lost her. You should always do whatever’s possible to keep everyone safe, but sometimes, you don’t have that choice. And you have to move on.”
A knock at the door.
Sam dropped her backpack on the floor and collapsed onto her bed. “Not hungry,” she said to the ceiling.
Leaving Wishville Page 6