One Last Thing ✅

forty-two things

Abbott is already in Mr. White's room when Riley and I show up. He's claimed the spot in the corner next to mine. Riley drops my books onto the desk and turns to Abbott, putting her hands on her hips. "You're in this class, too? I'm starting to feel left out."

"Well, we can't all be type A overachievers like you and take AP Lit. our freshman year," Abbott says dryly, leaning back in his chair. "Don't worry. We don't gossip about you too much."

Riley picks a piece of lint off the shoulder of her sweater. "Whatever. I know you guys just sit around and tout my virtues when I'm not around."

"Right," Abbott quips. "Like your ability to organize a sock drawer in less than five minutes. Epic life skill there."

Riley shoots Abbott a mock disgusted look and turns to go. "I'm going to be late. Catch you guys at lunch."

"Later," I say.

I sit in the desk next to Abbott's and swallow, not sure what to say now that we're alone. There's this thing hanging between us, the conversation we had last night, and I don't know how to climb over it and get back to our normal friendship. It seems like I should say something about it, but I'm not sure what. Maybe it's best to just pretend it never happened.

"So... what did I miss?" I ask, poking my copy of Hamlet.

"Oh, we finished discussing the book. Jason called Gertrude some sexist names, and Mr. White practically had to shield him from bodily harm from all the girls who wanted to strangle him. It was entertaining. Today is review. Test on Monday. But I guess you've already taken it..."

"Yeah," I say quietly, my eyes sliding away from his, trying not to picture the test that Mrs. Edwards had marked up only hours before I killed her.

Just breathe, Lil.

Breathe.

"You okay?" Abbott asks.

Before I can say anything, though, the bell rings, and Mr. White is telling everyone to quiet down. I stare at the penis drawing on my desk as he takes attendance, look up at the ceiling as the rest of the class quizzes each other on character names and important quotes. I try to make my mind go white, clean, anything but speckled with my own blood.

It's harder than it sounds, shutting your brain off.

Finally, I open my notebook and start scribbling, anything to get the dark thoughts out of my head. They're like dirty, wriggling maggots that I'm scooping out of the murk of my brain and dumping onto paper.

A moment.

This, most terrible, moment.

The worst, raw, writhing ache imaginable, multiplied infinitely.

All within the cage of my head.

I stare at the words and bite the end of my pen.

"Liliana?" a voice says, making me jump.

Mr. White is standing by my desk, staring at my notebook. I quickly cover up my writing, embarrassed. I look around. Everyone else is copying down notes from the board. "Yeah?" I ask. "Sorry. I just... I already took the test, so I wasn't really paying attention."

"No, it's not that," Mr. White says, leaning down. "I'd like to speak with you after class." His eyes are intense. I can tell, just from looking at him, that he knows why I was gone for the last couple of days. Mrs. Feldmann must have told him. I feel ashamed, like I'm sitting before him in my underwear.

"Okay..." I reply.

He pats my back gently and then slowly walks to the front of the room, pausing here and there to look at a student's notes or make a comment.

I realize Abbott is watching me.

"What?" I ask, my voice too sharp, and Abbott presses his lips together tightly and goes back to his notes. I look down at my notebook, ugly words covered by a scarred hand, and hate myself.