Devil in the Details

TWENTY-FOUR: Second Chances - Pt. 2

My parents forced me to stay home on Tuesday, but I decided to go back to school the next day. I could have skipped school for the next two weeks given all the doctor's notes I had racked up during my short hospital stay. But I didn't want to sit at home and watch the world rush by. This was my second chance at life; I wanted to live it.

I admit, things were a little strange that first day back. Billy was also in school and everyone treated us a little bit like we had just been diagnosed with cancer and then miraculously cured. Everyone knew what had happened, so everyone kept telling us how happy they were to hear that we were alive, which was awkward—how are you supposed to respond to that? Thank you, me too? But soon enough, things settled back into a pattern. There were things to do, tests to take, people to see.

I felt like a new person, and for some reason, I think other people felt that way too. I nearly spit out my milk when Sam sat down at our lunch table on Thursday.

"Planning another dance already?" I asked, thinking she had to have an ulterior motive.

Instead, she shook her head and pulled a salad out of her bag. "I'm taking a break from dance committee. The last dance got a little too intense for me, if you know what I mean. So I'm trying to take it easy." She hesitated. "I mean, I still have newspaper and key club, so I don't think it will affect my college apps that much."

I grinned. "I think you're fine."

I also ran into Alex that afternoon. He gave me a quick smile in the hallway as he walked by. "Nice to see you back!" he called out.

Thanks Alex, I mouthed as we drifted away, carried along on our own currents. It was nice to know that even though things hadn't worked out between us, I'd still managed to make a friend.

And then, of course, Friday was our big US Gov presentation, and I was absolutely stunned when Peter volunteered to present a few of the slides. He stuttered his way through several sentences, but it was such a momentous occasion that almost all the guys in the class gave him a congratulatory slap on the back when he walked back to his seat.

These small kernels of change warmed my heart—and yet not all the changes were good. Most glaringly, Lana was nowhere to be seen. After she had left my hospital room with James, she had never returned, and I was pretty sure she was gone for good. No one remembered her anymore. Her name was skipped over in roll call. She had vanished from my Facebook feed. And Ms. Morgan didn't bat an eye when she failed to show up for our presentation—even though the paragraphs she had written had made their way into our final paper.

I think Billy still remembered her, though. We didn't speak about it—it was too soon to talk about the things we had experienced together—but I could see it in his eyes, when he shot me glances during class or from down the hall. I wondered if Billy was hoping that these memories would fade away, becoming nothing more than a strange dream.

I, on the other hand, didn't know if I wanted that.

The only thing that proved that Lana had ever existed was that single Polaroid of us from the dance. I had found it in the pocket of my jeans, crumpled up in the tiniest ball, and was surprised that she was still there in the photo, smiling widely in her red dress with her arms wrapped around me. I had looked at the photo several times in the past few days, but had started looking at it less and less. It hurt just a little too much to see our smiling faces. To know that she was gone and she hadn't even said goodbye.

Although her sudden disappearance stung, there was something that made those first days back at school brighter: Taylor. She was a star drawing me into her orbit, filling my days with laughter and light. We didn't exchange hugs or kisses at school—I wasn't ready for that—but basking in her smile was enough.