pulled the silver wrapper off his piece of gum.
“I’m not gonna freak out or anything,” I said, hoping that would remain true. Somehow, over the past week, I had gone from being on the brink of freak-out ninety-nine percent of the time to about … seventy-five percent of the time. Until, of course, some random thing brought Joey rushing back. At first, I never thought I’d get used to the idea of Joey’s death, but it had settled over me like a fine mist. It had started to feel like reality instead of a bad dream. “It sucks. But I’m dealing.”
Nolan looked up at me, his head still tilted down a bit, his brown eyes searching mine for any hint of truth or lie. “Yeah?”
I shrugged.
Nolan shoved his gum into his mouth and crushed the wrapper up into a tiny ball, staring down at one of the blue tile squares on the floor. “It’s just weird,” Nolan said. “The whole death thing. Everyone’s talking about the last time they saw him or talked to him.”
I scooted forward on the seat of my rolly chair, inching toward him, longing for one more slice of Joey’s life to add to the patchwork of memories I had begun to assemble. Wishing I had access to my last seconds with him, hoping I would remember soon, that I would finally find the full truth and have my own story to tell in moments like these.
Nolan looked at me, his eyes watery and reddening. “Sorry. That’s probably the last place you wanna go.”
“No!” My voice bounced off the walls, too loud for the room. “I want to know as much as I can. Any new memory, even if it’s not mine…. They all seem to help, you know?”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “Will you tell me? Everything you remember from the last time you saw him?”
Nolan shook his head. “It’s really nothing, though.”
“Please,” I said, something desperate flaring, and surging, and spreading through my body. “It’s crazy, I know, but it helps keep him alive just a little longer when I hear other people’s stories.”
Nolan swung his head to the side and wiped his eyes.
“Did you see him the night of Dutton’s party?” I asked, hope blossoming in my chest. Maybe Nolan was the key to finding out what Joey had been doing after he taken me, Shannon, and Pete home.
“No, I was out of town that weekend with my parents, picking my brother up from college. Heard the party was a blast, though.” Nolan leaned back in his seat and propped his hands behind his head, elbows splayed outward. “Last time I saw Joey, actually talked to him, I mean, was at the Spring Carnival.”
I shook my head, trying to jar the words loose before they took root. “Joey wasn’t at the carnival.”
Nolan’s eyes creased. “Yeah. He was.”
“You must have mistaken someone else for him,” I said with a forced laugh, feeling a nervous tingle flash through my body. “He went to a Reds game with his dad that night. Killer tickets, or something like that.”
“Oh.” Nolan’s entire face crinkled up and he looked away, dropping his hands into his lap. “Okay. I must’ve been wrong.” He pulled himself up to the desk and grabbed his backpack, opening the front pouch and taking out a blue pen like he was ready to end the conversation and start his homework. As if Nolan ever did homework during our office aide period.
I reached for his hand, stopping him. “Well, maybe Joey came late.” I glanced up at the ceiling, trying to look confused or thoughtful or something that would keep Nolan talking. “I was kinda drunk.” I giggled, as if what I said had been funny.
Nolan squinted, looking unsure. “It was late.”
“God,” I said, smacking Nolan on the arm, needing that memory. “You’re acting so weird. Just tell me already.”
“Right. Okay.” Nolan sat back in his chair, click-click-clicking the top of his blue pen. “I had to work that night, so I got to the carnival late. It was dark already, and there were about a zillion cars in the parking lot, all lit up from the
“I’m not gonna freak out or anything,” I said, hoping that would remain true. Somehow, over the past week, I had gone from being on the brink of freak-out ninety-nine percent of the time to about … seventy-five percent of the time. Until, of course, some random thing brought Joey rushing back. At first, I never thought I’d get used to the idea of Joey’s death, but it had settled over me like a fine mist. It had started to feel like reality instead of a bad dream. “It sucks. But I’m dealing.”
Nolan looked up at me, his head still tilted down a bit, his brown eyes searching mine for any hint of truth or lie. “Yeah?”
I shrugged.
Nolan shoved his gum into his mouth and crushed the wrapper up into a tiny ball, staring down at one of the blue tile squares on the floor. “It’s just weird,” Nolan said. “The whole death thing. Everyone’s talking about the last time they saw him or talked to him.”
I scooted forward on the seat of my rolly chair, inching toward him, longing for one more slice of Joey’s life to add to the patchwork of memories I had begun to assemble. Wishing I had access to my last seconds with him, hoping I would remember soon, that I would finally find the full truth and have my own story to tell in moments like these.
Nolan looked at me, his eyes watery and reddening. “Sorry. That’s probably the last place you wanna go.”
“No!” My voice bounced off the walls, too loud for the room. “I want to know as much as I can. Any new memory, even if it’s not mine…. They all seem to help, you know?”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “Will you tell me? Everything you remember from the last time you saw him?”
Nolan shook his head. “It’s really nothing, though.”
“Please,” I said, something desperate flaring, and surging, and spreading through my body. “It’s crazy, I know, but it helps keep him alive just a little longer when I hear other people’s stories.”
Nolan swung his head to the side and wiped his eyes.
“Did you see him the night of Dutton’s party?” I asked, hope blossoming in my chest. Maybe Nolan was the key to finding out what Joey had been doing after he taken me, Shannon, and Pete home.
“No, I was out of town that weekend with my parents, picking my brother up from college. Heard the party was a blast, though.” Nolan leaned back in his seat and propped his hands behind his head, elbows splayed outward. “Last time I saw Joey, actually talked to him, I mean, was at the Spring Carnival.”
I shook my head, trying to jar the words loose before they took root. “Joey wasn’t at the carnival.”
Nolan’s eyes creased. “Yeah. He was.”
“You must have mistaken someone else for him,” I said with a forced laugh, feeling a nervous tingle flash through my body. “He went to a Reds game with his dad that night. Killer tickets, or something like that.”
“Oh.” Nolan’s entire face crinkled up and he looked away, dropping his hands into his lap. “Okay. I must’ve been wrong.” He pulled himself up to the desk and grabbed his backpack, opening the front pouch and taking out a blue pen like he was ready to end the conversation and start his homework. As if Nolan ever did homework during our office aide period.
I reached for his hand, stopping him. “Well, maybe Joey came late.” I glanced up at the ceiling, trying to look confused or thoughtful or something that would keep Nolan talking. “I was kinda drunk.” I giggled, as if what I said had been funny.
Nolan squinted, looking unsure. “It was late.”
“God,” I said, smacking Nolan on the arm, needing that memory. “You’re acting so weird. Just tell me already.”
“Right. Okay.” Nolan sat back in his chair, click-click-clicking the top of his blue pen. “I had to work that night, so I got to the carnival late. It was dark already, and there were about a zillion cars in the parking lot, all lit up from the
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