Chapter 16: Slam on the Brake

Monday. Most of the time, Monday's were dreadful days, but today was an especially dreadful one as Washington took the podium up at the center of the room.

"Today, I'm sorry to report the unfortunate loss of one of your classmates, Connor Murphy." Washington looked really, really tired. Like a college student who had to pull two all-nighters over a weekend to get something done. No amount of caffeine can really help once you reach a certain point of fatigue. "He was enrolled in this very class. We'll all miss him."

Everyone looked around at each other with expressions ranging from shock to horror to confusion. Dead? Really?

"If he was in this class, how come nobody ever saw him?" Alana's voice cut through the silence.

Washington shrugged. It practically looked like the effort to raise his shoulders was killing him. "Most of the time, he was simply absent."

Silence.

"If anybody needs help working through this difficult and troublesome time, counseling is always open to you." Washington rubs his eye. "In any case, let's - let's get on with the lesson. Hopefully, you've finished your essays about the history of romanticism. This week, we're going to build on those essays and…"

Evan wasn't listening. Less than a minute of shock, and already, everyone was back to normal. There was Alana, listening attentively and writing down a whole dictionary's worth of notes. There was Jared - actually, Jared wasn't even here. He was probably still asleep, if Evan knew anything about him. There was Thomas, with his classic expression halfway between feigned boredom and genuine interest, and there was Alex, typing away at his laptop. There was Heather, laughing with Heather and Heather, and there was Catherine, talking with Katherine and Catherine.

What was this? Connor Murphy was dead. He was never coming back. It was like… it was like he was never even here.

Although, technically, he never was here. In this classroom. Because he was always absent.

Still, Evan thought. The point still stood. Nobody gave a crap that their classmate had died, clearly.

What would Connor think about this? Really?

Evan idly questioned where Connor might have sat in this room. Probably way, way far in the back, farther away from everything than even Jared, doing his own thing.

He stared at the seat in the back, looking at it intensely, driven on by his musings, by the thought that someone would have to remember Connor. Someone, at least.

In fact, staring at Connor would probably piss him off. Hm…

"Hey." Evan made the little apparition of Connor in his head speak. "What the hell are you looking at?"

Evan did not stop staring, and so "Connor" came over and got up in his face.

"Hey, asshole. I'm talking to you! What the hell are you looking at?"

Evan laughed a little to himself, a tiny sound in his chest. He was being completely ridiculous. Who was he to assume how Connor acted, anyway? He was pretending to know the guy, sure, but that didn't mean that he actually did.

Seeming to come to the realization that he was not, in fact, real, the mental image of Connor clenched his hands into fists. Brimming with rage, yet markedly unable to do anything about it, he retreated back to his faraway seat. Evan dismissed the fantasy and returned his attention to the teacher without a second thought.

Weeks would pass. As September faded away into October and the season of fall marched on, Evan entered an ever-increasing state of anxiety over what the Murphys were thinking. He had not seen Zoe during any of his classes, and her parents had not said a word.

But while Evan slowly descended into a more and more unhealthy state, his roommate's life began to get markedly better and better.

"You're heading out again?" Evan asked as he watched Alex pull on a somewhat worn jacket.

"Just as always." Alex looked at the doorway, not even looking at Evan, and the latter resigned himself to being so invisible that even the person who slept in the same cramped room as him wouldn't acknowledge him.

Alex turned his head and looked at him. "You wanna tag along, Hansen? It'd be great to have you over. Being alone for that long isn't good for you, y'know."

"I'm fine," Evan hurriedly responded. Perhaps being noticed wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. "Besides, I'm … I'm not alone."

Alex looked at his friend confusedly before shrugging and exiting the room.

The instant he stepped out, Evan flipped out his laptop and called Jared. Dammit, his anxiety was eating him from the inside out. He couldn't go another day like this. He needed to talk to someone, anyone, even if it was only Jared.

Evan regretted his decision almost instantly upon hearing the voice of his "friend".

"What the hell did you mess up now?"

"What?"

"You always call me whenever you've created some terrible disaster. So I'm asking you. What the hell did you mess up now?"

"It's like, I just can't handle it. It's been forever since we dropped off those emails, and I haven't heard a word from any of the Murphys. Why? Why? I'm freaking out. I can't-"

"Ok, ok, stop." Evan could hear the disdain in Jared's voice. "Why are you panicking over nothing? LITERALLY nothing. There's NOTHING wrong, and you're still complaining."

"It's the nothing that scares me!" Evan exclaimed. "It's not normal. Something's gone wrong."

A little notification appeared on Evan's screen. He had an email.

Through all this time, Evan had constantly checked his email. After all, he'd used his actual email address in the fake emails. Why wouldn't he? And since it was the most available form of communication, the Murphys would certainly use it to reply to him.

Or so he had thought. Weeks had gone by, and Evan had gotten many emails. Each time he saw one, that same horrible mixture of horror and dread bubbled up in him before he mustered up enough strength to open it. Each time, it turned out to be something unrelated and completely unimportant.

And now, here was another one. Evan sucked in a breath, trying to prevent himself from vomiting. It would be fine. Probably another advertisement from a store he'd been to recently, or something. It had been every time before.

"Hey. Hey, what happened? Did you have a stroke or something?"

Evan could not hear Jared's swords. Too much blood rushed to his head.

This email was from Cynthia Murphy.

Evan scanned the subject. "Your emails". Wow. So helpful. That certainly let a guy know what the contents of this email were about, to be sure.

Now sweating up a storm, Evan nervously clicked open the email. He was shaking. He was going to slide right out of his chair and fall to the ground if he did not stop shaking.

"They sent me an email. Just now," he managed to croak out.

Jared paused for a second. Evan wondered what silence with him would sound like. This was it. Just like any other silence.

But only for a second. "What? What does it say?"

"Dear Evan." Evan cleared his throat. Where was his water bottle? He really, really needed some water. "We as a family are so fortunate to have received these emails from you. On the behalf of all of us, I'd like to say thank you."

"See! Nothing to worry about," Jared crowed.

"With these emails, you've given us a piece of our son back," Evan continued. "The idea that Connor had a friend… it gives us hope. It gives us warmth, and joy."

"Once again, I'd like to thank you. You're a great person, Evan. A great person."

"Sincerely, Cynthia."

"See! Everything turned out alright. You got away with your stupid lie. You're welcome." Evan could just feel Jared's smugness.

"Yeah… I guess…"

"No 'thank you'? Nothing for getting you out of that mess?"

"Thanks, Jared…"

"You're welcome."

Jared disconnected from the call, leaving Evan to stare at his blank, empty computer screen.

So. That was that. He really had gotten away with it. It didn't seem like the Murphys wanted anything more from him. It was all over.

Why, then, did he feel so empty? So unfulfilled? It felt like he was walking away from this half-finished. It felt wrong.

Evan shut his laptop and went over to his bed. Lying was exhausting. He was exhausted. Really, really exhausted. He'd worry about his troubles… in the morning...