After by Kristin Harmel

was thudding so loudly that I was afraid everyone passing by would be able to hear it.
    The restaurant was mostly empty, save for an elderly couple who were sitting on the same side of a booth, sharing an order of spaghetti and meatballs. I stood in the doorway for a moment, memories washing over me.
    There was the booth in the back where we used to sit almost every Saturday; the waitresses knew to reserve it for us. I blinked a few times, images playing like a movie across the backs of my eyelids. Dad making airplane sounds and flying a spoon of oatmeal toward Tanner when he was little. Logan and Dad laughing and flinging whipped cream at each other from their strawberry pancakes, until a giant glob of white landed right on the tip of Dad’s nose. Dad cutting Tanner’s fried eggs into bite-sized pieces. Dad putting his arm around me and giving me an affectionate noogie with his other hand while I complained, pretending to hate it, even though I couldn’t hide my grin.
    “Can I help you?” The hostess had appeared out of nowhere, someone I didn’t recognize. But it had been almost a year since we’d last been here. I didn’t know why I’d expected that the diner would be frozen in time, the way the memory of my dad was.
    I asked for a table for five—just in case Logan and Mindy decided to show—and then waited nervously at the table.
    The next seven minutes felt like an eternity. Finally a tiny girl with a mass of jet-black curls walked through the door and looked around, her eyes wide and unblinking. I recognized her immediately from her Facebook profile.
    “Hi!” I exclaimed, hopping up. “Mindy?”
    “Yeah,” she said.
    “Hey,” I said. A tidal wave of relief washed over me as she stepped closer. “I’m Lacey Mann. I’m the one who organized this.” I felt proud to say those words.
    “Where is everyone?”
    “You’re the first one here.”
    “Oh.” She hesitated.
    “Here, sit down,” I said before she could change her mind and bolt for the door. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Not without everyone else here. I didn’t want to get into anyone’s stories without the whole group present.
    “So you’re a freshman, right?” I asked finally. The seconds ticked by.
    “Yeah,” Mindy said.
    “You like Plymouth East so far?”
    She shrugged. “I guess.”
    Just then, the door opened and Kelsi strode in. “Hey,” she said, joining us. She sat down hard, throwing her book-laden backpack on the floor, where it landed with a loud thump.
    Before I had the chance to say anything, the door opened again, and Cody came in, looking annoyed. “I’m here,” he said. He was tall and a little stoop-shouldered with long, dark hair that flopped over his piercing dark eyes. He pushed a shaggy shock of hair behind his ears and ducked his head.
    “Hi,” I said. I felt immensely relieved; I realized I’d been expecting him not to show.
    “This better not be dumb,” he muttered. I felt a tight feeling in my chest. In my head, this had all gone so well; everyone would be glad to be here, we’d laugh together and cry together and feel better at the end. But now I was beginning to wonder just how dumb that was.
    “So I guess we can get started,” I said, suddenly unsure of how to begin.
    “Whatever,” Cody said. “Can’t we order or something, though?”
    We ordered Cokes and a few orders of fries to share. Just as we handed the waitress our menus, the door of the restaurant opened again, and Logan appeared in the slice of sunshine from outside, followed closely by Sydney. My jaw dropped.
    “What’s up, man?” he said to Cody as he strode over to our table. He nodded at Kelsi and Mindy, throwing a “What’s up” their way, too. Since there was only one chair left, Logan grabbed one from another table and wedged it beside the empty one so that Sydney could sit next to him. She was eyeing me warily, a little smile on her face.
    I could feel my blood boiling. “Logan, can I talk to you for a