something, I'm not interested," I said, adjusting my books as if I was actually going to study. "Considering," I added pointedly.
"It's not drugs, Reed. Come on," Josh said, sitting up as well. "How idiotic do you think I am?"
I blinked. Ablush moved in from behind my ears, warming my face all the way to my nose. So this was what shame felt like.
"Then what is it?" I asked.
"It's better," he said.
I looked down at the blank pages in my notebook and took a deep breath. "I'm in."
ENOUGH DAMAGE
My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears I had a feeling they would be ringing later. I hadn't been in Ketlar for weeks. Not since Thomas was still alive. Not since he had brought me here to have sex.
Make love.
Use me?
I had no idea anymore. And now I'd never be able to ask him. Whatever it had been, being so close to the place where it had happened was conjuring several physical reactions.
Nausea. Shaky knees. Headache. Watery eyes. I was one big side effect.
"Come on," Josh half-whispered the moment the elevator doors slid open.
It took a lot of effort for me to move. I followed him out into the hallway and toward the common room. I knew I should be excited and curious about what, exactly, Josh had in mind, but ghosts of memories were crowding out any immediate concerns. Visions of
Thomas sprawled out on the leather couch. Playing video games on the flat screen with his friends. Raucous laughter and cheers and jeers.
There was none of it now. The place was dead. It smelled antiseptic, as if someone had come in and bleached the walls. The TV was gray and the game console had been stashed underneath in the cabinet. One guy I didn't know read at the table in the corner by the light of a dim lamp.
It was as if all the life had gone out of Ketlar along with Thomas.
Josh quickly crossed the common room--the only place in the dorm where I was legally permitted to be (not that I had heeded that rule in the past)--and headed into the far hallway. Suddenly I knew where he was taking me. To his room. Thomas's room.
"Uh, I don't think this is the best idea," I said.
"We're not gonna get caught," Josh whispered, taking my hand, just as Thomas had taken my hand right here in this place not all that long ago. "Mr. Cross has been in meetings practically twenty-four/seven since they found Thomas."
I tripped forward as he tugged me. My murky brain tried to find the words to tell him that the last place on Earth I wanted to be was Thomas's room, but we were already in the hall. My breath caught. There it was, the closed door looming up on the left like a creature from hell that could swallow me whole. Inside that room were all of Thomas's things. The clothes that still smelled like him. The books he always stacked next to his desk. The bed that we . . . that we . . . that--
I opened my mouth to say something. Anything. I could not go in there.
And then we were walking past it.
Josh opened the door at the very end of the hallway. "Here we go."
"What? But I thought-"
I stepped into the tiniest room I had ever seen, barely larger than a Billings closet. The walls were bare, but there were paint splatters everywhere, in every color of the rainbow. I recognized Josh's bedspread from his old room. The bed, desk, and dresser had all been pushed up against one wall so that three easels could be set up along the other. The third was dominated by a tall, slim window. Next to the door was a skinny closet jammed with clothing.
"They moved me here the week after the funeral, after they inspected all my stuff for clues or whatever," Josh said, dropping his messenger bag on his bed. "My old room is a crime scene now."
"Oh. God. I didn't even think of that."
"I know," Josh said, his eyes dark. "I hate it. It's like, how much can one person go through? It's like I--" He stopped himself mid-ramble, as if biting his tongue, and glanced at me. "It just sucks."
"Yeah," I said. I had no idea what else to say.
He moved over to the corner where
"It's not drugs, Reed. Come on," Josh said, sitting up as well. "How idiotic do you think I am?"
I blinked. Ablush moved in from behind my ears, warming my face all the way to my nose. So this was what shame felt like.
"Then what is it?" I asked.
"It's better," he said.
I looked down at the blank pages in my notebook and took a deep breath. "I'm in."
ENOUGH DAMAGE
My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears I had a feeling they would be ringing later. I hadn't been in Ketlar for weeks. Not since Thomas was still alive. Not since he had brought me here to have sex.
Make love.
Use me?
I had no idea anymore. And now I'd never be able to ask him. Whatever it had been, being so close to the place where it had happened was conjuring several physical reactions.
Nausea. Shaky knees. Headache. Watery eyes. I was one big side effect.
"Come on," Josh half-whispered the moment the elevator doors slid open.
It took a lot of effort for me to move. I followed him out into the hallway and toward the common room. I knew I should be excited and curious about what, exactly, Josh had in mind, but ghosts of memories were crowding out any immediate concerns. Visions of
Thomas sprawled out on the leather couch. Playing video games on the flat screen with his friends. Raucous laughter and cheers and jeers.
There was none of it now. The place was dead. It smelled antiseptic, as if someone had come in and bleached the walls. The TV was gray and the game console had been stashed underneath in the cabinet. One guy I didn't know read at the table in the corner by the light of a dim lamp.
It was as if all the life had gone out of Ketlar along with Thomas.
Josh quickly crossed the common room--the only place in the dorm where I was legally permitted to be (not that I had heeded that rule in the past)--and headed into the far hallway. Suddenly I knew where he was taking me. To his room. Thomas's room.
"Uh, I don't think this is the best idea," I said.
"We're not gonna get caught," Josh whispered, taking my hand, just as Thomas had taken my hand right here in this place not all that long ago. "Mr. Cross has been in meetings practically twenty-four/seven since they found Thomas."
I tripped forward as he tugged me. My murky brain tried to find the words to tell him that the last place on Earth I wanted to be was Thomas's room, but we were already in the hall. My breath caught. There it was, the closed door looming up on the left like a creature from hell that could swallow me whole. Inside that room were all of Thomas's things. The clothes that still smelled like him. The books he always stacked next to his desk. The bed that we . . . that we . . . that--
I opened my mouth to say something. Anything. I could not go in there.
And then we were walking past it.
Josh opened the door at the very end of the hallway. "Here we go."
"What? But I thought-"
I stepped into the tiniest room I had ever seen, barely larger than a Billings closet. The walls were bare, but there were paint splatters everywhere, in every color of the rainbow. I recognized Josh's bedspread from his old room. The bed, desk, and dresser had all been pushed up against one wall so that three easels could be set up along the other. The third was dominated by a tall, slim window. Next to the door was a skinny closet jammed with clothing.
"They moved me here the week after the funeral, after they inspected all my stuff for clues or whatever," Josh said, dropping his messenger bag on his bed. "My old room is a crime scene now."
"Oh. God. I didn't even think of that."
"I know," Josh said, his eyes dark. "I hate it. It's like, how much can one person go through? It's like I--" He stopped himself mid-ramble, as if biting his tongue, and glanced at me. "It just sucks."
"Yeah," I said. I had no idea what else to say.
He moved over to the corner where
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