Grange looks up from his notepad. “What time was it when you walked out onto the balcony?”
“I—I honestly don’t remember, but maybe like midnight?”
“Was Ryan out there with you?”
“There were a lot of people out there, but I don’t specifically remember if any of them were him.”
He continues to write. “And then what did you do?”
I close my eyes, trying to remember. What did we do? What did we do? I purse my lips, shaking my head. “We might have gone to bed after that.”
“At what time?”
I come up blank. “I’m sorry, I just can’t remember. I drank too much.” The last part comes out as barely a whisper.
Detective Grange sighs and closes the notepad. “Thank you for your time, Miss Sawyer. Before you go, if I could just get your phone number and address in case we have any more questions throughout this investigation?”
“Okay, sure.” I write them down, my hands still unsteady. Ty and Annica stand by the door with Austin, waiting for me.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ty says.
“Okay, what the hell just happened?” Annica says when we get onto the sidewalk.
I look over at the house as we walk away. “I feel sick,” I say, taking deep, shaking breaths. “Did any of you see anything last night? Did he jump? Was he pushed?” I try to imagine the feeling of falling through the sky only to land on the hard ground. Did he die instantly? Or did he lie there in agony until his body gave up? I grimace at the thought.
Ty slowly shakes her head, tears welling up in her doe eyes. “He was so excited to graduate this year,” she whispers. “There’s just no way he would do that. It had to have been an accident.”
“Did you talk to him again after you guys argued?” Annica asks me.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember anything after the balcony.”
“When were you on the balcony?” Austin asks.
I look at him, confused. “Weren’t we all?”
“No,” Ty says. We’re all quiet and I’m silently berating myself for getting that drunk. I try to think of every scenario of why I’d be on the balcony without my friends. And did I see Ryan again or even Colton?
“This is bad,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.
“I’m sure it was just an accident,” Annica says, rubbing my arm, trying to comfort me.
“I mean, it’s not like any of us pushed him,” Austin says. “I mean, youdidn’tpush him, right?” I can tell he’s joking, but I come off a little defensive in my reply.
“No, why would you even suggest that? I would never do that.” I think of Ryan’s eulogy sitting in my journal at home. “I would never do that.”
Chapter 7
The drive back to Pembroke is quiet. Annica and I sit in total silence, no music, no conversation. I spend the whole two hours trying to remember details of the party. I relive it in my head over and over again. But each time I get out to the balcony my mind becomes an empty canvas, waiting to be painted with a memory.
I drop Annica off and tell her to fill in Dani for me, though I regret it after I do, because I can only imagine the exaggerated version of this story she’ll come up with. Finally going through my phone alone in my room, I hope there’s something in here that will jog my memory but there are no posts, no texts, and no calls. The one time I wish I over-posted, and yet it’s like I didn’t even have a phone last night.
When I remember that I also wrote a eulogy for another now-dead person, I get out of bed to find the journal, intent on burning the whole thing. But it isn’t in my bag. I figure it must be in my car from when I burned Jonah’s page in the park weeks ago, and decide I’ll burn it tomorrow, when it doesn’t give me a headache tostand up. I lie back down and take deep breaths, waiting for sleep to take me.
It’s dark when I open my eyes again. The hangover is gone but the reality of it being Sunday night and I still have homework to do sets in. My stomach growls viciously, reminding me I haven’t eaten today. I go into our kitchen, but all the food in here is Ade’s. In fact, the only thing that’s mine is a bottle of merlot sitting on the counter next to the refrigerator. It stares back at me, daring me to pour a glass. Just one glass—it would help. The hair of the dog, or whatever they say... but I don’t need it. I really don’t.
I leave it there, untouched.
I have two discussion board posts to do, a quiz, and an outline to finish, but I pace around my room instead. I look at my goals taped to my mirror and say them again.
