Page 65

That didn’t make any sense. “Gone where?” Had he vanished again? He did that sometimes. Just upped and disappeared for days. It didn’t mean anything. At least it wasn’t cancer. Christ, my heart was up around 120bpm.

“No, son . . . I . . . I’m sorry. He’s passed away. He died last night. We only heard this morning . . .”

He was still talking, but the words weren’t sinking in anymore.

Chills spilled through my entire body and all the heat, all the strength, rushed out of me. The little corridor blurred. I slumped against the wall, needing it now to hold me up.

Saga was dead?

He was gone.

“But . . . I spoke to him two days ago.” I’d called him, told him about Ren and everything, and the Games, and he’d listened, joked with me about getting laid. He’d been the one who had told me to set up camp outside Ren’s apartment door so he had to talk to me. Saga couldn’t be dead. Saga didn’t die. There wasn’t any part of my life without him in it. It didn’t make any sense.

He couldn’t . . .

“How?” I breathed the word.

“I’m sorry, Cam. You were always close. Nobody has said for certain, but it was most likely a drug overdose.”

Oh. No, no, no . . . Saga.

I did need to sit down. Shit.

I slid down the wall and pulled my knees to my chest. “I don’t . . . I don’t understand. I just spoke with him, Dad. He was fine, he was okay. I don’t . . .”

“I know, son.” His voice wobbled. “We don’t know much. Maybe your friends from the dance studio know more?”

The calls from home. The calls I’d ignored.

They hadn’t been about the rhythm dance today.

They’d been calling because of Saga . . . because he was dead. And I hadn’t answered.

I pinched my lips together, bowed my head, and thrust my trembling fingers into my hair. I hadn’t been there. I hadn’t taken his calls. I hadn’t been around when he’d needed me. I hadn’t been around at all in months. I’d left him there to deal with whatever shit he was dealing with, and when I had called him, it had been about me, always about me.

I should have been there.

“Are you alright?”

“No, Dad.” I choked on a sob. “God . . .”

“I know, I’m sorry. Is someone there with you? Do you have someone?”

I wiped my face of tears, aware I was in public, but more fell. “I uh . . . I have to go.”

“There was nothing you could have done, Cam.”

“I could have been there.” I should have been there.

“Cam, son . . .” He trailed off. What more could he say?

“I gotta go,” I croaked. “Love you.”

I ended the call and buried my face in my knees. Don’t fall apart, don’t fall apart here. It’s a party. Don’t fall apart here. Leave. Leave and pack and go home. I have to go home. I can’t be here. I have to go home. I can’t do this. I can’t dance. I can’t be here. Saga is dead. I left him. He’s a fucking idiot and I left him. I should have been there. Why? Why would he do this? I spoke to him. He didn’t say anything. Why didn’t he tell me? Why? Why was he gone? It wasn’t fair. He was my friend, with his stupid face, and “mon beau,” and all the times we’d gone up to the roof of his studio and talked and looked at the stars and I’d told him I was going to be a famous skater one day. Why? Why did it have to be him?

“Cam?”

I looked up.