“I’m Connor. Senior. Communications. I’m on the lacrosse team, and my coach must have gotten together with the hockey coach, because it was the same ultimatum.” He nodded toward Logan, who nodded back. “I knew your brother, man. We were in the same dorm as freshmen. Mrs. was a good dude.”
“Yeah, thanks, man,” Logan said.
Logan’s brother’s nickname was Mrs. I tried to think of other Beatles’ lyrics and nothing came to me. And then a flash of the cookie aisle in the grocery store and me as a kid begging my mom to buy me a bag of Pepperidge Farm Milanos that were right next to the bags of Mrs. Fields cookies. That had to be it.
Not the time to laugh at the originality of that and Straw(berry) for him, but I quietly appreciated the cleverness.
“I remember when he left school last year. Sucks.”
“Yeah.”
Connor had the same type of bigness that Logan had, but his coloring was much more on the fair side. He had an almost surfer-dude look about him—longer, sun-streaked dirty-blond hair, baggy shorts (but also shower shoes and white sweat socks), and a long-sleeve tee that was Carolina blue with the UNC logo on it. I always thought of lacrosse players as East Coast preppies, but Connor had a much more laid-back Cali vibe.
My thinking of hockey players had been off too, so what did I know? Nebraska football and that was about it, it seemed.
“And who did you lose, Connor?” Marlo asked.
“My two best buddies from home. Car accident over the summer. Brutal. Small town, you know. Everybody was a wreck. Their parents just lost it.”
“And were you home for the summer? When it happened?”
Connor nodded, cleared his throat. “I was. I was in the car. Back seat. That saved me.”
No “oof” from Marlo, but we all mentally felt it.
“And that brings with it many other challenges besides the basics of grief, if one could call it that. Of course, there’s no ABCs with grief. Each case, each emotion, is different,” she said.
“I don’t know. I just know I’m here. They’re not. All I want to do is get on the field. Have to wait for spring for the season to start, but at least I can lift and train with the guys now. As long as I attend this class.”
Marlo nodded and moved over to a table against the wall that held her briefcase, two small stacks of papers, and six clipboards.
“Like I said, everybody has their reasons for being here. I’m just really appreciative that you are.” She took one of the stacks of paper, and handed it to Paige to take one and pass it on. I saw it was the assessment she’d mentioned earlier. When I passed the rest on to Logan, his fingers came close to mine, but didn’t touch. Same with the clipboards when they came our way.
“This is going to take a while for you to fill out. I asked for comfortable chairs, as opposed to desks or chairs and tables, so you’ll have to write using the clipboards. Let me know if you need a pen.”
Everyone dug in their backpacks, pulling out pens. I took the opportunity to pull out my Stanley. Paige and Dustin also pulled out water bottles. Logan pulled a Gatorade out. Bailey put her jacket on as if all the baring of souls had made her cold.
“Okay. Let’s get started.”
We all got comfortable and prepared to assess our pain.
Chapter8
“Megan, wait up,”Logan said to me as we were leaving the Student Union after our class ended. “I’ll walk with you.”
I stopped and waited for him to catch up to me, which didn’t take long with his lengthy stride.
“Where do you live?”
“Creyts,” I said.
“Perfect, that’s right by my house. Oh yeah, you’d know that, wouldn’t you? I looked for you when I got things settled the other night, but you were just gone.”
“Yeah, my roommate didn’t feel great, so we left,” I said. I didn’t offer more, but he studied me a second before nodding.
“Well, I wanted to—”
“Get in, loser,” I heard from behind me. I turned to see Jane in the passenger seat of an older red muscle car that had pulled up along the curb. I moved aside to face her, and she saw Logan behind me. “Loserssss,” she amended.
