Page 113 of 72 Hours of You

“Hey, I think we should partner up for that poetry project,” he says.

“Homework? Come onnnn, who cares?” Cameron says, pulling on Liam’s arm. “I want burgers! Feed meeeee.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs. He’s still so close. I swear I can hear his heart beating. I wonder how many more beats he has left. Against my better judgment, I let myself glance up at him.

00:42:13

Cameron keeps dragging him down the steps. At the last second, Liam turns back around and offers me a high five. “Dylan Thomas buddies!”

I hesitate, but then I shake it off. Act normal. There’s nothing I can do. I high-five him back, my fingers lingering on his for just a fraction too long. “Dylan Thomas buddies,” I say, trying to make my voice come out casual, even though the words feel thick and lumpy in my throat.

He’ll never do that project. God, he probably won’t even make it to the burgers. Car crash, then. I assumed, but still, you never know. He could’ve slipped on jungle juice and cracked his head open on the tile, his blood mixing with the sticky mess on the floor.

“Later, Syd! Later, random new kid!” Liam says, tipping an imaginary hat to us and stumbling after Cameron.

“Syd,” Peter says, drawing out my name like he’s rolling it around on his tongue. “Not Tinker Bell.”

“Mhm,” I say, barely paying attention. My eyes are locked onto Liam’s back. He’s walking— No … actually, he’s skipping, literally, down the road, laughing while Cameron tries to jump on his back. In a few minutes this will all be over. In a few minutes …

Before I can register what I’m doing, I feel myself get up and dart toward Liam, my legs flying without me telling them to. Shit, what am I doing?

I reach out and touch his shoulder. “Liam.”

He turns around, a cheesy grin still plastered on his face. He tears his eyes from Cameron, waiting for me to explain why I just ran after him like a psycho.

“I …” This is so stupid. And so against the rules. But I can’t help myself. I reach out and squeeze his hand.

“Liam …” Jesus, what’s the end of that sentence? What’s the right way to send off a kind-of-friend who’s about to die? I stand on my tippy toes and give him a hug, my body once again moving without my permission. God, what the hell am I doing? This is so maudlin. “You were a good guy,” I say into his ear. “Really. Like, an actual good person.” I give him one last squeeze on his shoulder. My eyes go a little blurry, his neon light smearing in front of me. Shit, are those actual tears?

“Thanks,” Liam says, looking a little confused, but also genuinely flattered. Like I said, good guy.

Cameron gives me barely concealed side-eye before dragging Liam away from me and toward her car. Toward … Well, toward what comes next for Liam.

00:39:11

I turn around and squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t bear to watch him get into that car. I don’t hear the engine start—Cameron’s got one of those electric cars—but I do hear the dirt and rocks crunching under the tires and the two of them laughing with the windows down, their voices mixing with some overly emotional Lewis Capaldi song. The laughter and music get farther and farther away, until there’s nothing left but the stillness of the night. They’re gone. One of them for good.

“Hey.”

I startle, opening my eyes. “Jesus, could you wear a bell around your neck or something?” The new kid is standing in front of me with this look on his face that’s somewhere between fear and curiosity and … Oh. That’s concern. Right.

“Are you … okay?” he asks, his green eyes so deep and searching it makes me want to put my hands over his face just to make it stop.

He stands there, looking at me like he’s got all the time in the world to wait for my answer. Tonight, he does have the time. Everyone here does. Everyone except Liam.

00:37:53

Am I okay?

No. But who ever is?

Two

EMMA CHOY GLIDES INTO FIRST PERIOD in black Lululemons, a tight black turtleneck (even though it’s like seventy-five degrees outside), and the perfect swoop of charcoal-black eyeliner around her eyes. Sophia Aldis sashays in after her wearing a nearly identical all-black “grief fit,” the only difference being that her eyeliner comes to a flawless cat-eye spike in the corners.

I can’t believe the cheerleaders are still doing this shit.

It’s been three weeks since Liam died. Turns out it wasn’t a car crash. Well, not in the way I imagined it, anyway. He and Cameron were running around outside the Burger King, throwing fries at each other, and someone ran him over in the drive-thru. Cameron saw the whole thing. She hasn’t been to school since. Apparently, she’s just lying in bed in this borderline catatonic state. The one thing that’s been giving me peace is that Liam at least got to eat some of his burger before he died.