Every Little Thing

54

|| Evelyn ||

Dinner is quiet, but that's the way I like it. Georgina mumbles something about my casserole tasting good, and Hale nods in agreement, but I know that behind the slight clanging of forks against dishes there's something heavier. None of us say anything, but we're all thinking it—Hale had to break up today's fight, and Reed's spot at our usual table for four is empty.

I will admit, however, that finally being home brings a sense of peace I never thought I'd have again. Everything feels familiar; I'm no longer someone's houseguest. I'll be able to sleep in my own bed tonight, and in a few days Mom will be home and everything can go back to normal.

But normal is not tonight. Instead I watch as Hale clears his throat drops his fork onto the table, staring me dead in the eyes as he says suddenly,

"Greg. Was he the one that hurt you?"

I release a sigh, having to stop Georgie as she moves in to chastise her boyfriend.

"It's okay," I say, my voice working itself around the lump in my throat. I meet Hale's intense, green eyes with an unwavering confidence. "Yeah. That's why Reed acted the way he did."

"That sucks, Evelyn," he says, lowering his head. "I'm sorry."

"And I'm sorry about you guys," I reply, a sad smile twitching at the corners of my mouth. "Life's just one big sorry, I guess."

Georgina breaks out into a genuine smile and takes Hale's hand without breaking eye contact with me.

"Yeah, but we're tough. We've always been tough."

I nod and try my hardest not to think about Reed, which I guess is a form of thinking about him. It's just hard not to think about someone I used to see every day without fail. It's hard not to think about the fact that he's at home working on our project, and the fact that his dad should be arriving any minute, and God knows what will happen if he's angry—

Oh, God. Oh, God Evelyn, what if Reed gets hurt? What if he tries to take on his dad? What if you're not there to help him? EVELYNEVELYNEVELYNEVELYN! my mind screams, and I clench my jaw, willing it to shut up for once, but it doesn't. Anxiety is an alarm clock with no snooze button; it's always beeping. Always going. Always telling me to wake up wake up wake up.

Worry floods my mouth tasting like metal, and it takes everything I have not to throw up what few bites of casserole I've had. Georgie's brows are slammed down as she looks at me, and I know she already understands what's happening. She's been around me long enough to sense when I'm letting the overwhelming thoughts take over.

"I'm sure he's fine," she says, but her words are no comfort. Try as she might, she doesn't know what Mr. Bishop is capable of. She doesn't know what Reed has been through.

He needs you. What if you go to school tomorrow and he's not there?

My fists clench instinctively and I blow out a breath, trying to diffuse the tension in my own mind. Reed is not going to die tonight.

If thoughts can laugh, mine are in hysterics. You don't know that.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Go away. Go away. Go away.

"Evelyn?" Hale asks, but I get up from the table with an earsplitting squeal of chair legs. They both call for me, but I don't stop until I'm at my front door, grabbing a coat and preparing myself for the block-and-a-half to Reed's house. I fling the door open and am greeted with a burst of cold, and as I squint into the darkness, I see the shadow of a figure approaching my doorstep.