They were allowed to go home an hour later. They had to give up their phones before the questioning, but they got them back as they left. Simon's parents, Emily and Jack Spier picked him up. They drove home silently.
They walked into the house. Nora was sitting at the counter, working on her homework. "Dinner is almost ready," Emily said. "I made lasagna."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not hungry," Simon said.
"Understandable, but I'll still fix you a plate and leave it in the microwave," Emily said. Simon walked up the stairs and went to his bedroom. He thought about how it could have been any of his classmates. He flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.
He picked up his phone. His newest text was from his sister, Alice. She was living in Middletown, Connecticut for college. Taylor's sudden explosion would have definitely made national news by now. Simon and Taylor knew each other because they were in the theater program together.
Alice: Si, I'm so sorry. I heard about what happened to your friend. I'm here if you need to talk.
Simon responded, saying he'll call her later. As he clicked send, another text came through. It was from an unknown number. He furrowed his eyebrows before opening the text.
Unknown: Hey, my name is Bram. I moved to Creekwood last year, and I got your number from a mutual friend. I was there when Taylor exploded, but we never interacted. I'm just going to go ahead and say it: I like you.
Simon raised his eyebrows, surprised. The name Bram was familiar, but he couldn't put a face to that name. He didn't know what to say, so he responded with a joke. He asked him to please not send him a photo of his junk.
Bram's response caused Simon to burst into laugher. It was a photo of Richard Nixon. Simon tried to compose himself as Bram continued to send photos of guys with the first name Richard. He felt like this was the start of something beautiful.
The school was canceled for the rest of the week. Simon's class was invited to a group therapy succession that Saturday at noon. His parents insisted that he went, even though Simon protested. It was now Thursday, and he was having lunch at Waffle House with Abby, Nick, and Leah.
"Taylor's funeral is Sunday," Abby stated.
"I'm not going," Leah declared.
"You have to," Abby said. "The entire senior class is going."
"So I'll be apart of the other fake people going," Leah said. Abby gave her a disgusted look. "What? I barely said a hundred words to that girl. Half of the senior class hated her, but now she's dead they'll just be singing her praises. What are they even going to bury? Her remains painted room 103's walls, remember?"
Nick leaned over to Simon. "Don't look now, but the guy from two booths down is checking you out," Nick whispered. Simon looked up from his waffles and saw a cute boy looking at him. He had dark brown hair, chocolate eyes, and brown skin.
The boy walked over to them. "Hello," he said.
"Hi," Simon said. "Do I know you?"
"I was just making sure that you like your Richard picks?" Bram asked, with a smirk.
It took Simon a moment to digest what Bram was asking. "Oh my gosh," Simon laughed. "Guys, this is who I was telling you about. This is junk pick Bram! It's great to finally meet you."
