He whispers in my ear, something about tomorrow night and a baseball bat, and I can't keep from smiling. I doodle his name in the margins of Revelations, planting a safe arm over my bible in case Sister Chantelle feels the need to have a book check. He kisses my palms as he recites his monologue about pilgrim's hands and we cuddle in bed, our breathing the only thing that keeps us awake. If I close my eyes and hold my breath, I can feel his fingers laced with mine and the warmth of his bare skin against my back. Yet, when my eyes open and my lungs are again filled with air, I am alone in the center of my bed with a pit in my stomach and an overwhelming feeling of self-pity.

Jason McConnell is dead and I have never felt worse in my life.

Nadia visited me this morning. She told me that Lucas had some drugs leftover from Ivy's birthday party if I wanted any and she felt sorry for me. "Graduation is Saturday, Peter," she said. "You need to pull yourself together so you can walk with the rest of us." I was too indifferent to respond and Nadia left as quickly as she entered.

My mother called me as soon as she heard the news. "Jason was such a nice boy," she said. "I never thought that he would contemplate taking his own life. I wonder why he did it." He did it because he got Ivy Robinson pregnant and was in a secret relationship with Peter Simmonds and his reputation was imploding on itself and it was too much for him to handle. If I had told her this, my mother would've hung up the phone and I probably wouldn't see her at my graduation. That was the first time we spoke since I came out to her. I was surprised that she cared enough to call me.

There's a knock at the door.

"Peter, open the door."

It takes me a moment to realize that Ivy, of all people, wants to talk to me.

"I know you're in there, Peter, so could you please open the fucking door?"

Jason came out to me before St. Cecilia's let out for winter break. Well, he didn't exactly come out. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me that he wouldn't stop thinking about me until we came back to school next semester. At first I thought he was just messing with me. There was no way in hell that A) Jason McConnell was gay, and B) he had a crush on me. Luckily, I was proven wrong in the best way possible. But then school started up again and we could be ourselves when we were locked away in our dorm rooms together. During the day, Jason became the superstar of St. Cecilia's, and I was left in the background with a few clandestine kisses and memories of winter break to keep me occupied. And then things kept getting worse: Matt knew my secret, and Ivy couldn't keep her hands off of Jason. The only thing that made each day bearable was the empty promise of a quiet night with Jason.

"Fine. You don't want to talk to me, I get that, but you're not the only one who's hurting from this. Nadia didn't sleep at all last night because she was too busy crying, Matt feels like the biggest douche to ever walk the halls of this goddamn school, and I have a child inside of me that belongs to your dead boyfriend, so why don't you stop throwing yourself a pity party and realize that we all feel like shit too!"

I can hear her crying through the door, can hear her fists banging against the old wood in desperation. If only it were that easy, to forget about all the anger and pain pent up inside you and look at all the other people who are crying and wasting away under their sheets. I wish I could do something, but my bed is so warm, and, when my body aches for Jason to hold me, I can imagine his arms around me, squeezing so tightly that I might burst.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. My palms are spread across the doorframe, my cheeks streaked with silent tears. "I am so sorry."

And that's all that I can be:

Sorry.