Chapter 4

His name was Barry.

"Sarah!" he called. I turned around in the hallway, unimpressed. This had been going on for the whole week. Why did I even care? I shouldn't have turned around. Now I was going to be delayed while he gave me a whole pity speech.

I stayed silent, but dropped my shoulder bag and made the sign for 'What?'

He looked down at my hands and frowned. He couldn't understand me. Good. "I'm sorry about Jennifer," he said.

I picked up my bag and turned around to leave. I was tired of hearing this. I was going to be late for class for this? I didn't think so.

"Wait!" he said. His voice was sharp, and rang through the halls even though I was still right there beside him. He was panicked, and when I looked back around at him, there was a twisted look of pain on his face. "I want to talk to you. You knew her the best, didn't you?" His voice was desperate; creaking like he hadn't drank any water in the last two days.

I didn't know what to say. But a little voice called out in the back of my head: If you can act, so can he.

"I really liked Jennifer," he confessed with a flushed face. I already knew that. I was silent. He was nervous and hoping that I would say something. Maybe stop him. He looked down and spoke quietly. "And, do you think, maybe if I told her, maybe she wouldn't have—"

"Yes," I hissed before I could think about it. It was cold. So sickly cruel of me that the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. "I think she would be here right now." It wasn't as if I was lying. It was true. "But the question is: if she was still here, would you tell her?" My voice was like ice. It was loud.

"I was scared!"

"Of what?" I snapped. It felt good to just let it all out on him. I didn't even have to act. "Of being seen with the disabled girl?"

His face twisted more. "No!" he yelled, almost indignantly. It was actually sort of ironic.

"Of being rejected by her?"

"No!"

"Then what?" I demanded. "What were you scared of?"

"Never mind," he muttered and went to turn away. Now it was my turn. I grabbed his neck by the pressure points at the back and turned him around to face me. It was a cowardly thing to do, I know. But I had to find out. The bell had rung and the halls were empty except for the few stragglers who were now watching us. He had tilted his head back instinctively and was sort of cringing in pain. It was not a dignified pose, though after a moment he tried not to look like such a wimp.

"She was my best friend," I hissed. "If you hadn't been such an idiot, she might still be alive. Now tell me, what were you afraid of?" I let go of his neck.

His cheeks flushed redder. "You."

"ME?" I laughed loudly. "You think I was going to hurt you? Oh, what a man!" I mocked. There was a harsh edge to my voice that made me feel like I was going to cry.

"No!" he said. "That's not what I mean. I don't know sign language and I would have had to, you know, talk through someone who did. I started to learn." And he showed me the entire alphabet. It was clumsy and he had to think about every letter, but it was there. "See? I just really didn't want to talk to her through someone else."

I stared at him. Here was someone I could talk to about Jennifer. I had completely insulted him and blamed him for her suicide and he still wanted to talk to me.

"Meet me here at lunch," I said before I could change my mind. Then I walked away to my first class.

I was late, but that was a given. It's not like my teacher cared. Everyone was still surprised that I was coming to school. My parents had tried to stop me after rushing home from the business trip. They said it was too soon, but I told them that it's what Jennifer would have wanted and they let me go.

"Good morning, Sarah," the teacher said brightly.

I grunted in response.

My classes seemed to drag on for an eternity, but finally it was lunch and I walked down the hall and put my stuff in my locker.

I took my time. It wasn't like I was the one desperate to talk to Barry. If he really wanted to go to lunch with me, he would wait.

So I looked at the mirror at the back of my locker and swept my bangs to the side. I was trying not to wear too much makeup lately to make it look like I was mourning, but it was tough. Every little imperfection on my face was starting to drive me nuts, and my eyelashes looked stupid without mascara. I sighed heavily and slammed the locker shut, only to notice that I had left my wallet inside. I decided to let Barry cover the bill, and if he didn't want to, then I would just go without.

I rounded the corner and saw Barry. He was actually standing in the same spot that we had seen each other that morning. He was looking around, nervously. His eyes were weary and his cheeks were red, like he might have been crying. There was still a look of pain on his face and I was starting to feel just a shade guilty for going off on him.

He caught my eye and his expression brightened in the slightest. He hurried over to me. "Thank-you for, you know." He looked down. "I thought you weren't going to come—I'm sorry," he said all in one breath. "I really—"

I put my hand on his shoulder and he stopped talking. Quickly, I steered him over to the front door and we left. As soon as we were out the door he started talking again.

"I'm sorry I was too late," he blabbered. "I should have tried harder and I understand if you don't want to talk to me."

"Shut up," I said. As bad as I felt for him, he was getting really annoying. "There isn't much you can do about it now."

Short of revealing Jennifer to him, there really was nothing I could do either. She had made a life-changing decision without even thinking about how it would affect everyone else. Barry and I had a connection in that way, and I wanted to explore it. He had the potential to be a friend. And I really needed a friend. We arrived at the little cafe in a few minutes.

I led him inside and sat down at a small booth in the back. I wasn't excited about being noticed and drawing an entire pity party to the table.

He sat down across from me. There was a long silence between us as I stared at him, waiting for questions. Waiting for him. It wasn't as if I had a lot to say.

Eventually, he spoke.

"Why?" his voice cracked.

I thought about that and decided to settle on the truth. "I don't really know. She seemed happy the way she was."

"Did she ever," he said nervously, "you know, talk about me?"

I nearly laughed.

"She hardly knew you, genius. It's not like she saw you around." I was talking in that strange way that gave me goose bumps again.

"...Oh..."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Yes. We talked about you once."

He looked up, surprised. I think he was almost afraid that I was going to tell him that she hated his guts or something.

"I told her that I knew you liked her," I said. He didn't bother asking how I knew that.

He looked at me expectantly.

"I told her that, and she said..." Now I could hardly remember what she had said. "She said 'I'm not stupid. Are you telling me that out of all the girls in our school, he wants to go out with the disabled one?' So I told her that she was prettier than she thought."

He gulped. I guess he had never really seen what her personality was like. I suppose that was a bad impression.

"But she came around. She started asking about you. She remembered things you'd said before in class and said that you seemed nice. She said that she would have to get me to talk to you for her more."

"So..." he said ponderously, "she liked me?" The word liked was said in a sort of high-pitched, confused tone.

I nodded.

He swallowed again. "When?"

"Saturday," I said.

He hit his fist on the table and it startled me. He looked down.

I looked around. Everyone in the cafe was staring. I gave them hardened glances and they looked away.

He was shaking.

"Barry?" I said.

Shaking because he was sobbing.

I felt sick. Look at what Jennifer had done. I resolved to tell her what a horrible effect she'd had on the people in our school. She had to know the consequences of her actions.

But slowly, I came to a realization. It was like a lightbulb going off. I had told him it was his fault. This was my burden. I had put all of this on his shoulders.

Absent-mindedly trying to fix my mistake, I touched his hand. He stopped shaking and without looking up, stared at my hand. I brought my head down to his level. "I'm sorry," I said. I had to resist the temptation to tell him to act like a man. He was feeling the same kind of sickness I had been feeling for the last week.

He let out a long breath to try to calm down.

"Barry, it's not your fault."

He looked up at me, surprised again. I had revealed that I cared. A lot more than I usually would do. Usually I didn't care at all. But I felt responsible in part for Barry's misery. He looked like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the right words.

"I know what I said, okay?" I said, pulling my hand away from his. "I was mad. I didn't mean it like that."

He smiled a little. "Thank-you," he said. "I just, I wish I could tell her I was sorry."

I was a little angered by his smile, but his comment had extinguished it. I wanted to tell him that he could apologise. She was probably somewhere in town already. I just had to find her.

No.

What if he was one of them? I couldn't risk it. But come to think of it, a yeerk would never show so much compassion.

Still, no.

I had to force myself to say, "I'm sure she knows."