“My mom tried to ban me from playing for a week,” I say. “Have to blast music while my computer is on so she doesn’t notice. I should still be able to get the download done, though.”
He looks up and frowns. “Ban you? What for?”
“She thinks I’m obsessed.”
He pauses for a second. “You did hit level cap and gear outin about the same amount of time it’s taken me to say this sentence.”
“So you agree with her?”
“Not that you need to be banned, but yeah, you’re hyperfocused.”
“Fine.”
I’m not sure how to greet him when we’re here outside of school with no one around. Do I kiss him? Hug him? A physical awkwardness strings out between us. Both his parents’ cars are in the driveway, so they’re both home—what if one of them comes to the door and sees us? They’re going to think something’s wrong with us, kissing so soon after Alissa died.
“Hi,” I say finally.
“Hi,” he says back. He smiles a little, the first I’ve seen in days. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I say. Testing the waters, I hold my hand out. He takes it, reels me in for a quick kiss, then lets me go. That was it; that was all I needed.
He leads me inside. The TV in the living room is on, turned to college basketball. Mr. Whitaker used to be the first one at the door when I came over, beaming, talking about whatever activity their family had planned for the day and how I could join in. I think I hear him snoring now.
When we’re halfway up the stairs, Ash’s mom comes out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel, seeking us out.
“Evie, hi,” she says. She sounds breathless. I haven’t seen her since the last time I was here. She looks like she has more color, but there are bags beneath her eyes and her hair is limp. There’s a brittleness to her movements, as if she isn’t sure of herself or anything she touches. “Ash let us know you were coming over. How have you been?”
“Good,” I say reflexively, then catch myself. I shouldn’t lie to them. “I mean—sorry, actually kind of bad. Right in this moment I’m okay.”
Even her smile is brittle. “I’m glad to hear that. And your mom?”
“She’s keeping busy. Mostly dealing with... me. She says hi.”
“Hi to her too. Are you hungry? Do you want anything to eat?”
“I’m okay,” I say. Should I lie about that, though? Should I let her feed me? It might make her feel better. I glance at Ash.
“We’re going to play CoH,” he tells her.
“Oh, okay. Have fun.”
We head upstairs. Once safely inside Ash’s room, he says, “Sorry, I was trying to get you past them.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” His mom wasn’t normal, but she wasn’t a wreck, either. Nothing like at the funeral. “Your mom seems like she’s doing better.”
He drops into his chair. CoH is still running on his computer; his character is standing on the Fenhallow campus. “She’s getting good at pretending. I guess you pretend long enough and one day it becomes real, and you’re better. Hasn’t worked for meyet, but maybe I haven’t tried hard enough.”
I get the feeling he’s not just talking about Alissa. I help myself to his bed and pull my computer out of my backpack, taking the moment to figure out how I want to word my question. I don’t ask about this often, and I don’t want to upset him, but that thing he said after we ran out of church has been floating in the back of my mind.“They think we do this to ourselves.”
“Was it bad like this after the crash?” I ask.
I glance over and find his expression surprisingly open. He takes a beat to answer, his fingers pinching at the fabric of his sweatpants on his right leg.
“You mean, did I feel the way I do now?”
“Yeah.”
He scratches the back of his neck. Looks around, his dark eyes settling on different spots in the room, anything but me.
