Page 49 of Allegiant

This has to end before someone gets hurt.

12

ROWAN

The anniversary of Adam’s death dawns bright and cheery. Sunlight mocks me through the gaps in the closet door; a reminder that life is going on. That the world is still turning.

But Adam isn’t here.

And he never will be again.

I take another glug from the bottle in my hand and ignore the hammering on my door. So far, Clay, Marcy, Cam, and Shane have taken turns knocking. Marcy spent thirty minutes shouting through the thin wood, but I ignored her. I crawled into my closet so all I could hear was muffled concern.

I can’t face them. Not today.

Even Nugget isn’t here. I considered it, but decided against it. I didn’t want him to be stressed out by seeing me in this state.

Besides, I don’t deserve any comfort. Dropping Nugget at the boarding facility for the next twenty-four hours was for the same reason I refused to open the door to my friends.

I deserve to suffer alone.

Just as Adam did.

I wonder briefly how Adi is spending today. Adam’s older sister doesn’t live in the area. I haven’t seen her since the day Adam was lowered into the ground, the two of us standing shoulder to shoulder as we watched his casket disappear.

She hasn’t reached out since then. I haven’t either. It’s too painful. Talking to Adi would mean facing what happened.

I’m not ready to do that yet.

I kicked Samson out last night at nine. I didn’t want him here when the clock struck twelve. When I knew the memories would make themselves known.

I haven’t tried fighting them. Not today. Tequila is all that’s getting me through. Even that isn’t enough to drown out the pain. Hasn’t even given me the gift of unconsciousness.

A memory assaults me, this one blurry with the passage of time.

“Hi.” A gappy-toothed boy slides into the seat beside me, offering a tentative smile. “I’m Adam.”

A new friend. Mom was right. Middle school is going to be a fresh start. We’re not even halfway through homeroom, and someone’s talking to me. Willingly. Without even a hint of mocking in their tone. “I’m Rowan.”

His eyes flick down to my notebook. To the ballet shoes I’ve been absently sketching in the corner while the room filled up around me. “What’s that?”

“Ballet shoes,” I say, my fingers tightening around the pencil reflexively. “I like to dance, okay? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

I’m so tense that a stiff breeze could snap me as I wait for the usual comments, the teasing that echoes in my mind.

But Adam blinks his big brown eyes slowly. “What would be wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, still feeling defensive. “But other people think there is.”

“Then those other people are assholes.” I gape at his casual cursing, but he just grins broadly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let any of them say those things to you anymore.”

Another sob chokes out of me. He never did. He kept his word. Adam landed himself in the principal’s office with bloody knuckles on more than one occasion. Every single time, he’d been defending me.

And when it’d come time for me to return the favor, I’d let him down.

School wasn’t the only time Adam was there for me. Far from it.

Adam’s face is pale as he bursts through the door to the waiting room. At twenty, his face is losing the roundness of youth. His eyes are already full of tears as they land on me. He speaks a single word. “Rowan.”