For This Life Only by Stacey Kade Page A

meaningless.
    â€œYou can’t let yourself get caught up in this stuff. You gotta focus on being here, being alive,” Zach said. “That’s what Eli would want you to do.”
    Was it? My brother was dead, and it was possible he wasn’t in a better place, that he was just gone. No one seemed willing to discuss that possibility.
    Except, maybe, Thera Catoulus.
    I’d missed her presence in Pussy PE—in Exempt today.
    I kept looking to her seat, registering her absence, in the same way you poke your tongue at the soft, sore spot left behind when a tooth falls out.
    I wasn’t sure what I wanted from her, or why I felt a pull toward her. What was it about her?
    It was clear she despised me and what I’d done to Eli. I should be staying as far from her as possible. What kind of idiot would seek that hatred out?
    â€œMaybe you’re right,” I said finally. But it didn’t feel right. That’s what was tripping me up. Though these days, very little felt right.
    After another awkward gap in conversation, Audrey sat up straighter in her chair, as if she were taking charge of a poorly run meeting.
    â€œSo. We should talk about Spring Formal,” she announced.
    Zach groaned, which earned him a shoulder smack.
    â€œIt’s only seven weeks away,” she said. “We need to start making plans.”
    Just like that, the conversation about Eli was over. I couldn’t blame Audrey and Zach; before the accident, I wouldn’t have wanted to talk about this either. Actually, I would have actively avoided it.
    â€œYou’re the one who needs to make plans. Dress shopping, hair appointments . . .” Zach waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve got the rest of it figured out.”
    â€œReally?” Audrey asked suspiciously.
    â€œSure.” He shrugged. “I’ll borrow the family roadster—more space for everyone—and then we’ll hit up that crappy drive-in place Jace loves.”
    I listened to them, feeling oddly removed from the moment, like I was watching it on a movie screen.
    Audrey narrowed her eyes at Zach. “You’d better be kidding.”
    Zach held his hands up in defense. “Yes, I’m kidding,” he said with some exasperation. “But you know Coach is going to have us in practice until the last second, right?”He looked to me for support before realizing his mistake.
    He and Audrey froze, looking stricken. “Sorry, bro,” Zach managed after a moment.
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said. “I wasn’t much for dancing before anyway. Now I might actually hurt someone else or myself.” I clunked my cast against the floor carefully for emphasis.
    They laughed, as I’d intended them to, and the tension disappeared. But instead of sharing in their relief, I felt more alone. The gap between us was only growing wider. It was a truth I’d been trying to ignore for the last couple of days, digging in like a splinter: I didn’t belong here anymore.
    The person I’d been before the accident was gone, and there was no getting him back.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
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    WEDNESDAY EVENING LENTEN SERVICES weren’t well attended, which was why we were at the original church building rather than the auditorium. The organ played intro music, the sound muted so as not to drown out the various preservice conversations. My mom, Sarah, and I were earlier than we’d been on Sunday; the narthex was filled with people chatting with one another before they took a seat.
    So far, I wasn’t feeling the rush of sickening panic—like I was falling face-first into a gaping chasm and couldn’t catch myself—that I’d felt on Sunday. That was something, at least.
    I watched the smiling faces around me, some of them more lined with worry or stress than others, as we moved closer to the sanctuary.
    They belonged here. They felt safe and comforted. Crap might be raining down on other