The Leaving Season by Cat Jordan Page A

don’t need to get Allison to come all the way from college.”
    I laughed. “Oh, I didn’t hang with—” I stopped. The girls all looked at me quizzically. “I mean, right, you’reright. I won’t call Allison.”
    I watched Haley, waited for her to say something to me, to ask another question about my day off and who I really spent it with, but she turned instead to Debra. “Do you have anything but fashion on your mind?”
    Debra made a face. “Do you have anything but sports on your mind?”
    Haley paused and held her gaze. “Yeah. Boys!” When she cracked up, the rest of us did too. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I felt my shoulders relax. As the talk turned to boys and music and television, I quietly slipped away from the table, but Haley jumped up to follow. I tensed, wondering if she was going to say something else about my day of hooky, to flat-out ask me who I’d spent the day with, but she merely leaned into me and whispered, “You okay, Middie?”
    I almost growled at her—did everyone have to ask that question ten times a day? But I knew she was only asking because she was concerned. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just have to get ready for class, that’s all.”
    â€œWell, like I said, we’re one hundred percent here for you. All of us.”
    â€œI know. Thank you.” I loved Haley, truly. She was an amazing friend with only my best interest at heart. It wasn’t her fault she could only come up with trite phrases like We’re here for you ; after all, she couldn’t understand.
    â€œI totally understand,” she said solemnly. “This is arough time, but we’re gonna get through it together, okay?”
    I let her hug me and told her how much I appreciated her friendship and then slid out of her grasp as politely as I could. Aside from Nate’s family, there was only one person who truly understood what I was going through: Lee.
    I’ll call you when you need me.
    But he didn’t call that night, not even when I sent him a text: call me?
    In fact, two more days passed and I heard nothing from him, no call or text. Was I wrong about Lee? Did I put my trust in him too quickly? My gut wanted to say no, but my heart sank a little as the days went by.
    Three in the morning had to be the loneliest time of the night when your only companion was the wild thought in your brain. Crazy thoughts, thoughts like, Was Nate sleeping when they attacked the village? Was he frightened or calm? How many people did he try to save?
    Silly things too. What was he wearing? Did he have time to put on his shoes? Did he have bad breath or bed head or sleep drool on his chin?
    My gaze flitted from my textbook to my phone about twenty times before I realized that I’d been staring at the same page of chemistry homework for half an hour.
    3:05. Density equals mass over volume.
    3:09. Molarity. Wave relation. Atomic structure.
    My eyes began to close as my lashes grew heavier, myarms and legs sank into the mattress, light flickered behind my eyelids—
    â€”and the phone on my bedside table suddenly rattled, waking me with a start. My heart skipped a beat as my semiconscious mind thought, Nate! But of course it wasn’t.
    It was Lee. I resisted picking it up. He hadn’t responded to my text, so why should I answer his call?
    The muted phone buzzed and shook. I pulled the comforter over my head like a turtle retreating into its shell. It finally stopped ringing and then buzzed with a text.
    Sighing, I reached a hand up and swiped the phone from the bedside table, curling up with it under the blanket. I tapped the screen and read the illuminated text. He wanted to know where I was.
    Home. Bed. Asleep. Go away, I typed and sent.
    A second later, the phone rang in my hand. “What?” I asked him.
    â€œYou’re not asleep.”
    â€œI was