Determined to know what was going on with her boyfriend, CJ spent hours after school in front of his house for the next few days, hoping to see his sister. Just a confirmation that he was still alive was all they needed; they were anxious for any sort of update. Menlo, Ashley, and Randall often joined her either individually or all together, before they needed to get home.

It was hard to keep a casual conversation going, so they opted for waiting in silence, sometimes pulling out homework to help the time pass.

It was on Thursday just as CJ, sitting with Menlo, were packing up their books to head home and call it a day when Becky drove up and parked her car in front of the house. When she climbed out, her tiredness was all over her face.

"I guess you want an update," Becky said as she walked up to the house. She sorted through her keys for the one for the house.

"If you don't mind," CJ said. "You look tired."

"Yeah, this whole. . .thing, it does that to you," said Becky. "Come on in, it looks like it's about to rain."

CJ and Menlo sat in the living room as Becky went into the kitchen in search of something to toss in the oven to eat. Something quick, she wanted to get to sleep and get back to the hospital as soon as possible. CJ bounced her foot, eager for some answers. So far, the information she was getting only made her worry more, and she wanted this bit to be different. Apparently TJ's parents were planning on him doing homeschooling, but he never told them. And now they know that's because he never planned to live long enough to get to the first day. How long had he been planning on this?

"Alright, guess I'll get the big thing out of the way," Becky said. "He's alive, but he's in a coma. The doctor expects him to come out of it any day now, but for now, he's down for the count. So both good news and bad news."

CJ and Menlo let out a sigh of relief at the news TJ was still alive.

"Do you know when we can visit him?" CJ asked.

"Not for a while. Everything still so. . .raw," she said. "But we'll let you know when. The doctor said that hearing familiar voices can help patients wake up sooner, so hopefully our parents will be open to you all visiting sooner rather than later."

Becky watched the two of them leave. Sasha stood next to her, waiting for food and a walk. She couldn't blame TJ's friends for being concerned. Maybe it would help him wake up if they went and talked to him; she heard that hearing familiar voices helped coma patients wake up. But that decision was up to their parents, and they weren't allowing visitors just yet.

"Oh, Sasha, I hope we can bring home your owner soon." Becky patted Sasha's head. She grabbed the leash, deciding to take the dog out to relieve herself before getting some sleep.

ZZZ

It's been months since they were all together like this, willingly. They were more than happy to go off and join their respective groups. That's what you did, right? Hang out with people you had the most in common with.

Vince, Spinelli, Gretchen, Gus, and Mikey sat in Vince's room, trying to make sense of everything that's been happening. The guilt was eating away at them, no matter how they tried to convince themselves they had nothing to do with this. Austin was the one that messed with him the most, but before Austin came along, it was then how filled that role.

It's not like TJ was never picked on back at Third Street, but he always let it roll off his back. It never occurred to them that coming from the five of them it would hurt him. They never meant for him to know about it in the first place.

"What do we do now?" Mikey asked.

"I tried asking his friends but they won't talk to me," said Spinelli. "Fucking Randall of all people basically told me to fuck off."

"Randall? God, they must all be pissed," Vince sighed. "They aren't going to tell us anything, we might as well not even try getting information from them."

"Perhaps we can ask our parents to get in touch with his parents," Gretchen suggested.

"Maybe. But what if he told his parents about everything that's happened? They might not want us to know anything either," said Vince. "Can't say I'd blame them."

"I can't believe we helped with that stupid garbage prank. What were we thinking?" said Spinelli. She ran her fingers through her hair and bounced her leg. Everything they did, they thought about them individually, not the impact they had as a whole. But what it did, as a whole, was right there for them and the entire school to see.

"What if he's dead?" Gus suddenly asked. The others looked at him.

"C'mon just, don't think like that-"

"We have to, Vince!" Gus snapped. "We have to! TJ might've killed himself and we're a part of the reason he tried to in the first place! I mean it's not like we helped!"

"He was depressed," said Spinelli. All eyes turned to her. "I came home during summer for a family wedding and went to talk to him. He was taking these pills and said it was for depression. I thought he was being dramatic, like we all did in sixth grade."

"We didn't even try to understand what was bothering him because we we're too focused on ourselves and what other people thought about us," said Gus. "He wouldn't have treated us like that and we all know it. We didn't even have the guts to just say we didn't want to be friends with him anymore; that's the least we could have done."

"We know, Gus. We were shit, we get it," Vince groaned.

"Were? Were? There isn't a were or a was, we are! It's not we ever stopped!" He shouted. "I should've said something, I saw everything you all were doing but it's not like I warned him about any of it. Why did you even help Austin in the first place? Everyone knows that guy is a jerk!"

". . .it was over a project we had together in German class. We got a worse grade than him because he told the teacher that we made him do most of the work," Spinelli explained. She sighed. "I mean, we sort of did but we had other things to do, he didn't have to be so petty about it."

"So you team up with the guy who's been bullying him since the school year started? You had plenty of time to do that!"

"What do you want us to say Gus? That we were assholes? Because we already know that," she snapped.

Gus paced back and forth, running his fingers through what little hair he had on his head. "We're all guilty. You helped Austin torment him. I saw what was happening but didn't say anything. It's not like he even tried to get back at you, he probably just wanted to be left alone. He wouldn't have done anything like that to us and we all know it. Now we don't know if he's alive or not."

There wasn't much they could say to that.

ZZZ

. . .

. .

. . . .

There was. . .an ache. An ache radiating outward from. . .his stomach? His stomach. An ache and a burn from his stomach shooting up his back and chest, the pain worsening with each breath. What little TJ could hear was muffled, and he couldn't make out any of it. He tried moving his hands, but barely made a finger twitch. That was enough for a sharp sting to burn his wrists and settle into a throb travelling through his hands and up to his finger tips.

There wasn't supposed to be anything for him to make out. There wasn't supposed to be any pain. He was supposed to be good and dead and on his way to be 6 feet under.

He can't even get this one thing right.