Page 69 of People Like Us

I could see his long brown hair swaying sideways as he looked back at me over his shoulder, his fingertips trailing over that faded mural on the wall, his mouth forming the words “see you later” without actually making the sounds.

He’d started saying it to me every time we left the church since that first Sunday morning when we’d locked eyes during prayer a few weeks ago. It had become somewhat of a private joke between us, that we’d always make eye contact during prayer.

The rusty shriek of the screen door had slammed shut behind him. His clover-covered notebook tucked beneath his arm. A thought flickered briefly through me then—accusing and ugly enough that I shoved it down instantly before I could fully examine it.

Beside me, Emily reached for my wrist beneath the table and squeezed once. “You okay?” she asked quietly.

I startled slightly. I hadn’t realized how still I’d gone. “I’m fine,” I lied automatically. “I have to get to the library.”

The big box heater mounted to the wall in the corner breathed out dry heat that smelled faintly scorched, like burnt dust. Mixed with it was the sweet scent of aging library books—the glue in their bindings melting soft in the warmth. The two smells together created something falsely comforting. I felt like I was sitting inside a set of lungs that did not belong to me, waiting to be coughed out.

I stood tucked into a narrow aisle between shelves with my forehead pressed against a row of encyclopedias, trying to steady my breathing against the cracked leather spines. Beside me sat the cart of books I was supposed to be shelving untouched except for the copy of Wuthering Heights I’d been anxiously turning over in my hands for the last ten minutes.

I couldn’t stop replaying the sound—that awful crack from the woods the night before. The rock leaving my hand, then hitting something.

My stomach rolled hard enough that I pressed my fist against my sternum, begging myself to get it together before Mrs. Morgan came looking for me.

Andy had laughed when I’d frozen in the cornfield, his breath warm against my throat while the stalks swayed black around us in the dark. Probably a deer.

“It was a deer. It was a deer. It was deer.” I whispered to myself repeatedly, willing it to be true.

If I had known it was Shannon watching—I cut the thought off, unwilling to go down that path.

The lights overhead buzzed sharply, drilling into the base of my skull. In the media room I could hear the printer as it spat paper in short mechanical bursts while students whispered over keyboards in the main area. The normalcy of it all made me feel crazier somehow. Like the world should’ve paused for this.

“Lola?”

I startled violently enough to slam my shoulder into the shelf behind me, my heart leaping straight into my throat.

Emily stood at the mouth of the aisle, her brows pulled together tightly beneath the smooth line of her blonde ponytail. Concern flashed across her face so quickly it almost looked like fear.

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered, stepping closer. “You look awful.”

I forced out a weak laugh. “Thanks.”

She didn’t smile back. Emily crossed her arms over her chest, fingers curling into the sleeves of her cheer sweatshirt as she looked me over carefully. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” The lie came too fast.

Her brown eyes narrowed immediately. “Bullshit.”

I looked away from her toward the rain-streaked windows at the far end of the library. Gray clouds sat swollen over Woodland, low enough to make the football field outside look washed-out and dead. The trees beyond the parking lot swayed slightly in the wind.

I kept seeing trees. Corn stalks shifting under moonlight. A silhouette hunched and heaving.

Emily waited quietly, which somehow made everything worse. She had always been good at waiting people out. Like she knew silence eventually made everybody confess.

I rubbed my sweaty palms against my skirt before finally whispering, “I think I fucked up.”

The hardness in her face dissolved instantly. She uncrossed her arms and took another step toward me. “What happened?”

I swallowed hard. My throat hurt with the effort it took.

“Last night,” I said carefully. “After youth group.”

Emily’s nose wrinkled immediately. “Oh God.”

Despite myself, I huffed out a tiny laugh. “Shut up.”