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But I can’t focus on anything normal because I know there’s nothing normal about this call. It’s too late for me. I don’t know what’s coming, but I already know our lives will be upended. They’ve already been upended. We just don’t know how yet.
“What’s happening?” Everleigh asks, stepping into the counselor’s office an eternity later. She takes us in and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Is it about our scholarships?”
I don’t have time to respond before Dr. Lister steps into the office with the headmaster and pulls the door closed behind her.
“Y’all draw the short straws?” I ask, straightening my spine and steeling my nerve.
“I’m afraid we have some tragic news,” the headmaster says, taking a seat in one of the ergonomic chairs across the heavy wooden table. He adjusts his tie and puts on his brave-in-the-face-of-tragedy mask. “Your mother just called and wanted us to send you home. It seems your brother has… Passed away.”
We all just sit on one side of the table staring back at him.
“What?” Eleanor whispers.
“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Dr. Lister says.
Not our brother. Ourloss.
As if he’s suddenly become something else, no longer a human but an object, an idea.
“That’s not true,” Everleigh cries, almost shouting.
“I’m so sorry to have to break the news to you,” Dr. Lister says, coming around to sit beside my sister. “Your mother’s already identified the—him. She wasn’t able to come down to get you, so if you’re able to drive home… We can certainly provide transportation if not.”
“We can drive,” I assure her, giving her a serene smile. “We’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern.”
“But—he was here last night,” Eleanor says. “He just went out with the guys.”
They keep talking, but I’m no longer listening. My hands reach out automatically, closing around each of my sister’s. We cling on, and for once, they feel like a lifeline. It’s just us now. Dad’s gone. Dawson’s gone.
Dawson, my very human brother, who went for runs with me until he was pouring sweat. I always called him a pig. He was a pig. He’d belch and fart out loud with no remorse, almost proudly, and leave his shoes kicked off all over the house and torture us with his smelly feet.
My brother, who was at a party with us just a few days ago. Who wasn’t even supposed to come home from college, but randomly showed up and then stayed an entire week. I thought maybe he’d been kicked out already. He was acting shifty. Did he get into something at school? Or back here?
My head swims.
Oh god. That has to be it.
He was the WHPA supplier last year. He must have come back here and was going to see his connection and get drugs to sell on campus. Something must have gone down at the deal.
“Your mother would like you to be together as a family right now,” the headmaster is saying, trying to get us and our obscene level of pain out of his office.
“And you’ll be excused as long as you need,” Dr. Lister assures us, her sympathetic smile reminding me to keep my face on, frozen in place like a porcelain doll. “The grieving process can be very different for each individual, and we want to be here to help in your healing journey in any way we can.”
Healing journey.
I want to puke. I have to get out of here.
Eleanor is sobbing, huge, ugly-sounding hiccups coming with it.
It’s embarrassing.
“Thank you,” I say, standing and smoothing my skirt so it’ll be as free of wrinkles as my face. “I’ll check my emails for the assignments every day while we’re gone.”
“How’d it happen?” Everleigh demands.
“Your mother will want to explain everything to you,” the headmaster says, his flabby neck flushing red with discomfort.
“Thank you,” I say again, dragging my sisters out of the office. They climb into the back of the Mustang, leaving me alone up front like I’m their chauffeur. I listen to Everleigh trying to soothe Eleanor, who’s sobbing on her shoulder. I watch the trees blur by, wilted in the late summer heat, defeated by months of relentless sun.
