A Step Toward Falling by Cammie McGovern

skip, it’ll just add time at the end, right?” He writes his address on a corner of paper and tears it out.
    â€œI really am sorry,” I say, taking the piece of paper. “Everyone says you had a great game before it happened.”
    One corner of his mouth goes up in a half smirk. “You weren’t there?”
    â€œI couldn’t make it.”
    I’m surprised by the way he’s looking at me, eyes narrowed as if he’s trying to figure out what I’m really saying. “Plus maybe football games suck now?”
    I laugh at the surprise of him saying this. “Yeah . . .” I wave my hand.
    He looks around the hall like he doesn’t want anyone to overhear this. “I had a hard time getting my head in the game. It was shitty.”
    The bell rings and he steps back. The moment is gone. Whatever we almost admitted to each other—we still feel bad, haunted even, by what happened to Belinda—isn’t possible to say.
    â€œI should go,” he says, inching forward. “It takes me twenty minutes to get anywhere.”
    â€œSure,” I say. “I’ll see you Wednesday night.”
    When I look back up the hall to where I left Richard, he’s talking to a tall guy I’ve smiled at a few times but didn’t think I knew until I realize—it’s Hugh Weston. He’s much taller these days, like over six feet, and dresses better than he used to. Richard is staring at him, wearing an expression I’ve never seen before, like he’s getting ready to laugh hard at whatever Hugh says. It’s sweet, actually. Hugh looks nice. I don’t want Richard to think I don’t support him. I walk over with a friendly hand raised in awave. “Hi, you guys. Hi, Hugh.”
    Hugh looks so surprised at my remembering his name, he blushes and looks down at his feet. “Hi,” he whispers. He clears his throat. “Emily, right?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œMr. Hartung, ninth grade?” He smiles.
    Even though I remember this, too, I’m surprised he does.
    â€œYeah,” I say and laugh. “So I should get going—I’ll see you in calc, okay, Richard?”
    â€œYeah, okay,” he says. Though he could have used this as an excuse to leave his conversation with Hugh, he doesn’t. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
    When Richard gets to class late—with a teacher who counts tardies—I feel bad enough to write him a note: Hugh seems really nice. Everything OK?
    Ten minutes later, I get back: Very OK. We’re seeing a movie on Saturday.
    Okay, wait a minute. He and I usually do something on Saturdays.
    â€œSo you asked him out?” I ask as soon as we’re alone in the hall after class.
    â€œYes. It’s a movie we both want to see. He said great, he’d love to go.”
    â€œDoes he know it’s a date?”
    Obviously I’ve only annoyed Richard all over again. “We didn’t use that word specifically, but it’s a movie on a Saturday night. It seems self-evident, doesn’t it?”
    I don’t know anymore. Suddenly it seems likeeverything is changing in ways I don’t understand. “Okay,” I say.
BELINDA
    I THINK M R. F IRTH WANTS me to go back to school. It’s a feeling I get during some of the boring scenes with Lizzy traveling to see her friend Charlotte. He’s not even on screen and it’s like he’s whispering in my ear, You shouldn’t stay home forever either.
    Then I hear him actually say it. I really do.
    Nan says I have an overactive imagination. She used to worry about me when I played in rooms by myself and used different voices for all the different characters in the stories I was acting out. She and Mom used to fight about it. “She needs to interact with people more!” Nan would say. “She shouldn’t be alone all the time!”
    And Mom would say, “She is who she is. Why can’t