The Survival Kit by Donna Freitas

kitchen, and for the first time in ages I let myself sink into all this beautiful noise. When the song ended Krupa hit pause and the only sound left in the room was breathing.

    “Thank you,” I whispered.
    Krupa removed the iPod from its dock and placed it on the kitchen table. “I have a proposal. Tomorrow you are going to bring your mom’s iPod to school and we are going to commit to listening to one song every day. We can do it at lunch. Before you know it, music will be a part of your life again. Pretty painless, right?”
    “Okay,” I agreed. It wouldn’t be painless, but I was grateful to Krupa nonetheless. She knew exactly what I needed to get through this. I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes to dry the tears. “It’s a good idea. I’ll have it with me at school. Promise.”
    “You’re welcome,” she said, and looked so pleased with herself that I had to make fun of her, at least a little.
    “Don’t get too carried away—it’s not that big a favor,” I said, already feeling a bit better.
    She rolled her eyes at me, walked around the counter, and slid another knife from the wood block, grabbing a bright yellow tomato lined with grooves and smooth bulges around its circumference and setting it on the cutting board. “Let’s eat soon,” she said, slicing up one section, then another. Krupa nudged me with her elbow. “Are you going to help or what?”
    “I suppose I could,” I answered, smiling. Eventually I picked up my knife again to finish preparing our lunch, but not before the watery blur cleared from my vision. I didn’t want to lose a finger.

16
    ENERGY
    At school later that week I found myself face-to-face with Chris Williams in the hallway. We stared at each other. Neither one of us knew what to say or do, and my heart began to race.
    “Chris,” I said, once I’d recovered enough to articulate a coherent word. My tone was formal and polite, like we’d just been introduced at a wedding. Sometimes the hurt from our breakup was still so close to the surface that it covered every inch of my skin.
    “Rose,” he said. The expression on his face was blank but his eyes were pained. There were no smiles exchanged between us, no pleasantries. I was about to leave when Chris spoke again. “You’re listening to music,” he said, gesturing at the iPod wedged into the pocket of my jeans.
    As promised, every day at lunch Krupa and I listened to a new song. “I’m trying to,” I told him. “It’s not easy, but it’s getting easier.”
    “You must be feeling better then,” he said.
    “I guess so.”

    “I’m glad.”
    “You are?”
    Chris nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at me and for a second I thought maybe this was it, the moment when Chris and I somehow found our way back to each other, but then the bell rang. “I’ve got to get to class,” he said.
    “Me, too.”
    “Okay.”
    “Okay.”
    “See you.”
    I watched as he walked away, disappearing into the crowded hall, my mind full of Chris Williams and our short but significant conversation. Since the day I gave back his jacket we had managed not to talk at all.
    After my next class, I saw Will by his locker loading books onto the shelves. He appeared and disappeared as people milled around between us. I leaned against the wall, trying to decide whether to say hi. This was the closest we’d been since last weekend, and for all I knew unless I walked up to him and started a conversation we might not talk again until the spring. My heart began to race.
    Suddenly Krupa appeared at my side and gave me a curious look. “What’s on your mind?”
    Red bloomed across my cheeks. “Nothing important.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Something is giving you a dreamy look.”

    “Nah.” I pushed myself off the wall and we started down the hall. “I have to stop by our locker.”
    “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” she asked.
    I shrugged. “Chris and I spoke today.”
    Krupa studied my face as we