How to Save Your School From Soul Stealing Demons

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18TH

I can't do it.

I toss and turn all night, so much so that even a nightmare would seem like a respite.

But all I can think is that I can't do it. Dinner was completely silent. Every time my fork hit my plate it felt like I was setting off a bomb. I can't live the rest of my life like that, cowering around them and knowing they hate me for my mistakes. If there's any possible way for me to make this up to them, I have to do it.

I can't sneak out, I can't go to homecoming, I can't fight Joan.

But I can't seem to tell my friends that, either.

Watts spends the bike ride to school hounding me with questions about Renny—asking if he should ask her on a date, or to be his girlfriend, or what exactly she meant by the kiss—so thankfully I don't have to think too much about breaking the news.

But once we get to school and meet up with Renny and Ambrose, all our conversation is focused on is the plan for Saturday and how to prepare. I can't bring myself to contribute, feeling like it'd be misleading, but I can't seem to get myself to say what I need to, either.

How can I look them in the face and back out of the journey we all started together right before it ends? How can I leave them when we're already compromised now that Watts is hurt?

I end up only offering up distracted nods of approval or mutters of, "Uh-huh," as they talk, trying to sort out my thoughts and think of a way to tell them that might make them understand.

But how can I? How could they possibly know how it feels to be the reason I hear Mom crying at night? How could I explain how it feels whenever I catch Dad staring at the pictures of Miguel in the living room instead of the TV with tears welling in his eyes, and knowing I'm responsible for that?

It isn't until lunch, after minutes of fidgeting and half-listening to their conversation, that I finally force myself to blurt it out.

"I can't go."

All three of them look up from their lunches in unison. They stop chewing, looking at me and waiting for more of an explanation than that. But I'm clammy and dizzy and terrified, and I know if I talk, I might throw up.

"Yoo cahnf go?" Watts finally repeats through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He swallows, reaching for his water bottle. "What... what do you mean?"

"I got grounded," I manage, taking a deep breath. I avert my eyes to the table—if I look at the way they're staring at me, if I see the disappointment in their eyes, I won't be able to do this. "I forgot about baseball practice yesterday, Coach Deeley called my house, my parents found out I was lying. And so I'm grounded. They won't let me go to homecoming."

Renny laughs. "So we'll help you sneak out. Trust me, I've had enough practice."

"Yeah," Watts agrees, breathing out a sigh of relief. "No biggie. You had me freaking out for a second there."

"No." I shake my head, swallowing over the lump in my throat. "I mean I really can't go. I can't sneak out."

I see Ambrose shift out of the corner of my eye. "Why not?"

"I... I've been in a bad place with my parents since the accident. Now it's worse than ever. If I sneak out, it'll only make things even worse." Saying abridged like that makes it sound so stupid. But would it be any better, any less of a terrible thing to do to them, if I explained all the reasons why I'm doing it?