She probably doesn’t like flowers. She’ll probably think it’s a prank and rip them off and throw them away, but maybe she’ll think they’re nice, whoever they’re from.
Something for her birthday, because she didn’t get flowers or cards or candygrams like the rest of us on Valentine’s Day, and I’d hated seeing that.
I walk away, looking back at the bouquet, a flutter in my chest. Everyone likes flowers. Even girls in motorcycle jackets.
She should be here soon.
Heading into the locker room, I open my locker and hang my backpack. I dig my AirPods out of the pocket and take my phone. The Seminole flag peeks out. Liv will be working in the theater after school today. Maybe she’ll be alone. Maybe I could take it to her.
I take out my pill bottle and open it, wanting to calm myself down a little, but I stop, staring at the container for a second. I didn’t take any all weekend. Not once. Since Henry’s death, I certainly haven’t needed it every day, but it didn’t even occur to me. That’s weird.
“You okay?” Amy asks at my side.
I recap the bottle and stuff it in my backpack, quickly zipping it up. “Of course.” I close my locker. “You?”
“Still a little nervous.”
And I know what she’s talking about. She texted fifteen times yesterday. My grandmother gave me a stern look in church, so I muted it.
“They won’t report it,” I tell her. “And who knows? They might cross the tracks for a little more fun.”
“I’m not worried about them reporting it,” she retorts.
I know. The Jaegers would exact their own justice before going to the police. I still feel shitty about Callum and Milo trashing their house.
“Hey!” Krisjen chirps. She heads to her locker, rubbing a hand on my back. “How are you doing, babe?”
“Fine,” I blurt out. “What is it with you guys?”
Why do they keep asking that?
Amy and Krisjen exchange glances, and Krisjen broaches softly, “It’s just... I know this week is hard…on your family.”
I turn away, slipping my phone into the side pocket on my leggings. It’s been four years since Henry died, and I wait for the sting in my eyes to come like it always does the moment my mind wanders to him, but it’s not coming.
I’m distracted. It’s not… I don’t know. I miss him. I miss him so badly I’d give up my hands to have him back, but it’s not the only loss I’m feeling right now.
I glance around again, keeping an eye out for Liv, but she’s nowhere to be seen.
And as we all head into the gym, and I jump on the treadmill, she still doesn’t show. Where is she? Maybe she skipped for her birthday, but I feel uneasy.
I fit my earbuds in and pretend to start music as I stalk her social media, looking for a reason why she isn’t here. A dentist appointment. Suddenly sick. Self-care day.
Sudden death?
But nothing. She hasn’t posted all morning.
“Conroy?” Coach calls, walking into the weight room with a tablet. “Your time has come. I need you to take Jaeger’s position at midfield.”
Krisjen’s mouth falls open as she stops the treadmill. “You’re not serious.”
That’s Liv’s position.
I step forward. “What’s going on? Where is Jaeger playing now?”
Coomer turns her eyes on me, looking almost hesitant. “She’s…withdrawn from the team.”
“What?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Coach assures. “Don’t worry.”
She starts to leave, but I jump off the treadmill, stopping her. “Hey, wait a minute. She just…she just quit? You’re joking.”
Coach turns and looks around at the three of us, other girls faltering in their workout to listen.
“She’s finishing the school year from home,” Coach announces.
My stomach drops. “What?” Like hell.
But Coach just looks at me, replying calmly, “Well, what did you expect, Clay?”
And I fall silent, because my behavior hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice, it seems. Coach looks like she’s surprised Olivia Jaeger lasted as long as she did, under the circumstances.
She leaves, her question hanging in the air, and Amy rushes to my side. “Oh my God.”
“She actually left school?” Krisjen joins in.
Amy’s eyes smile and a lump swells in my throat. I turn away, pretending to look at my phone. The world spins in front of me, static in my vision, and I’m going to scream if I don’t get out of here.
I don’t have anything to prove. I don’t know why I ever thought I did. Especially to you. This is what she meant when she told me to take care of myself. If it weren’t for me, she’d be here. She’d be happy.
So, she left. She let me win.
She just let me win. Just like that.
Amy and Krisjen talk, and I just stare at my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen and my head spinning in a million different directions, so much so that I don’t know what I’m doing.