Page 37 of Dead Boys Club

But even now, Zach’s mom can’t name it. Neither of them can. So, neither of them will.

Parker wanting to put a hold on their plans had been a relief, at first. But now Zach’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s not sure if all the progress from the last few weeks—him and Parker becoming friends, Parker telling Paige, the list of demands for their parents—can cure Parker of all the things in his head that tell him nobody would care if he were gone.

He’s not sure because, even as great as these weeks have been for Zach, comparatively, he still has bad thoughts all the time.

“I know I work a lot,” his mom continues.

Because you have to take care of me, and if I wasn’t so broken and fucked-up, you wouldn’t have to work so hard to pay for all these medications that aren’t even fixing the problem. Because I am the problem.

The thoughts aren’t new. They’re not even particularly vicious. They’re just facts that Zach has had to come to grips with over the years. The older he gets, the more he sees the reality of everything his mom has gone through to take care of him. The divorce, the working two jobs for most of his childhood until she got the position she has now at the warehouse. Usually, Zach tries to reframe the idea of disappearing into thin air (not killing himself, because killing yourself is something that other people do) as a kindness. A favor to her.

“But I want to be here for you.” His mom squeezes his knee.

You would be happier if I weren’t here.

“I know, Mom,” Zach says, covering her hand with his own. He squeezes back. “I, um… I’ve got a lot of homework, so…”

“Well, it’s Friday,” his mom says gently. “Let’s watch a movie or something. I can order a pizza.”

He could tell her. He could tell her that Parker asked him to make a suicide pact. But the words don’t come out. The desperate loathing stays lodged in his gut, making his stomach hurt for the rest of the evening. Maybe this is how he’s supposed to feel for the rest of his life. Maybe the cost of having friends is stomachaches and keeping secrets.

Except, when Zach is the most honest with himself, when his mom has gone to bed and he’s left alone with his thoughts and the dark expanse of his ceiling, he understands that it’s not just Parker’s secret anymore.

It’s his too.

Chapter Fourteen

On the first afternoon of play practice, Zach paces outside of the auditorium. He doesn’t want to go in, because he knows absolutely nothing about theater tech. He’s never even been to a school play.

He’s heard a lot of jokes about theater kids being loud and obnoxious, and to Zach the only thing worse than being surrounded by loud and obnoxious people is the idea that other people might perceive him as loud and obnoxious just because he’s standing near the auditorium doors.

He considers not going. He signed up, sure, but people sign up for things and then don’t show up for them all the time. He doesn’t think Isaac, Bea, or Paige would really miss him if he just… bailed. Maybe he could walk home right now. He could leave.

But then a terrifying thought occurs to him: What if they do miss him? And then later, what if they confront him about not showing up and then everyone thinks he’s a flake?

Zach groans, squeezing his arms tight around his stomach. What he wouldn’t give to stop overthinking every little action he takes, just for a single day.

“What are you doing?”

It’s Parker. He skids to a stop as he passes by the auditorium on his way toward the front doors.

Things have been a little weird ever since Parker and Paige left his house. But maybe weird in a good way? Paige seems happier, and Parker seems less like he’s going to self-destruct at any given moment. Paige has a different lunch period because of the newspaper, so she doesn’t sit with them, but their lunch table has expanded to include Zach, Parker, Bea, and Isaac.

Zach has friends. A group of friends. A friend group, even. They do things like eat lunch together and loiter in the hall during passing periods. Every morning Parker shows up at Zach’s locker, squintyeyed and sleepy, with a hood over his damp hair. And sometimes he’s in, like, the worst mood. But most of the time he seems… okay.

Zach clutches at the front of his sweatshirt nervously. “I signed up to do theater tech.”

Parker frowns. He shifts his weight from side-to-side. “Why?”

“I—I don’t know,” Zach says. “Bea and Isaac are doing it, and so is Paige, you know, so I just…” He exhales shakily. “I signed up.”

Parker steps toward him, lifting one hand to tuck his own hair behind his ears. “And you’re standing out here because…?”

Zach wheezes out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Because I’m—I’m really bad with, like, people and doing things, and I’m having trouble, like… breathing.” He takes a moment, looking at Parker. “Um, if Paige is in there, then are you still…?”

“Yeah, I have to wait for her to drive me home,” Parker says dully. “My parents promised to give me some of my freedom back, but that doesn’t un-total my car.”

“Oh,” Zach says.