I sigh.It's not likelythe scent is actually him since I was the last person to wear it.The day he died.He slipped it on me after cleaning the wound fromRobin's house key the night before, and I was still wearing it atthe hospital the next morning.
I let the material absorbmy tears.I let them flow freely.I miss my best friend.I lovedhim.Lovehim.And it's not fair that he's not here—that because of my decisionswith Robin, Cam had to die.
"I miss you," I breatheinto the fabric.I hug the material to my chest, and let the sleevedangle over my shoulder as I reach for the next item in thebox.
It's a small photo albumfrom about three years ago.Our parents took countless photos of uswhen we were kids, but as we got older, most of our photo sharingwas done online.But when we were in ninth grade, we took aphotography elective and at the end we made this album.
I recall the photos withutter clarity before I even open it.Photographs of the sky, of theschool grounds.But mostly we took pictures of each other, andourselves—making ridiculous faces, or with wide smiles, or rollingour eyes at one another.It's a bittersweet feeling, thesememories.Because although it hurts that Cam's not here to look atit with me, I love remembering that time.
We had so much fun in thatclass.Often we were directed to pair off, which was obviouslyalways with each other, and go photograph certain assignments.I'dalways loved our time just the two of us.
It'd been like that when wewere kids, but during middle school we became more social.Well Camdid, and so I followed.There were always times when we'd hang outwith Chip, Nick, and Perry, but by then the boys and girls had beenhanging out together on Friday nights.And then that becameprogressively more frequent.I still saw Cam plenty, but there weredefinitely a lot more people around a lot of the time.So thatphotography class was something of a reprieve for me—a set timewhere I was certain to get my best friend all to myself.
I smile at the memories.That class came and went with our freshman year, but Cam alwaysmade sure to carve out time for the two of us, and he never let mefeel left out, or as if his popularity was more important than ourfriendship.The opposite, in fact.Cam always put me first, witheverything, and I wallow in regret that I allowed my hopes for myrelationship with Robin to ever come between us.
I remember the morningafter I'd overheard Robin tell his friends that he was hooking upbehind my back.After Cam retrieved me from my hiding place in thewoods, after he took me home and cared for me.I picture his faceafter I told him I wanted to hear Robin out.The hurt and betrayalin his honey-brown eyes.But also the love and support—theloyalty.
Cam always had my back,even if he didn't agree with my choices.I picture him standing onhis front porch as I climbed into the passenger seat of Robin'scar.Him calling out for me to call him if I needed him—that he'dcome get me.He'd always come get me, I knew.I never doubted thatfor a moment.Until he was gone.
I lay down in the guestbed hugging Cam's varsity shirt desperately, letting myself feelthe loss.I think about how lucky I am to have had him in my lifeat all.That despite the unbearable loss, that I wouldn't give up amoment of knowing him, of loving him.
I think about Sam.Abouttheir similarities, and their differences.I was once put off byhow ostensibly similar Sam and Robin seem, but I know now that whatmakes them alike is barely surface deep.That where it matters, Samis far more like Cam than he is Robin—that he's more like Cam thananyone else I've ever known.But then again, he is very muchuniquelyhimself.
They would have liked eachother, I have no doubt of that.In another life, they could havebeen great friends, and I drift back into sleep with these wistfulthoughts of a world I will never know.
Chapter Six
Iwake up feeling a little lighter than most days.Like I domost Tuesdays and Thursdays.Because today I tutor Rory afterschool, and so I know I have some alone time with her to lookforward to.As much as it sucks to pretend I don't want more, I'dbe lying if I said I wasn't grateful for every minute I get withher.And it gives me an opportunity twice a week, while tutoringher in a subject she detests, to gauge how she's doing.
Next week will be thefinal exam, and so this is probably one of the last tutoringsessions we'll have, if not the last.The truth is she's prettycaught up on the coursework, so while I could probably swingtalking her into one more session just to be safe, it won't be morethan the one.
With the end of the yearapproaching, there's a cloud of uncertainty hanging over me,casting an ominous shade on everything I do.I see her around, ofcourse, but rarely alone.And asjustfriends,without a legitimate excuse toget together just the two of us, I fear I'm going to lose theseopportunities for good.
Lately she's seemed a bitbetter.Ever since that God-awful brunch.Not all better, ofcourse, but better than she's been since Miami.Except she's stillso damn tired all the time, and it drives me crazy.
I jog through the doubledoors that lead out the gymnasium wing and down the concrete stepsto the student lot.Tucker and Dave are already chatting by mytruck and I greet them each with our standard handshake.
"'Sup, bro," Dave says ingreeting.He's not actually asking me what's up, just saying hello.I nod in return just as the rest of the boys join us.
"Pizza?"Luke asks.He andMarshall always want pizza.
I look to Tuck, silentlyasking him what only he knows will decide where I'm going to eatlunch.
"Girls want to meet at thediner," he replies.
I nod, tell Luke andMarshall that I'm going with Tuck and Andy, and they shrug and headon their way.Dave comes with us, too, and they climb into my car.I see Carl and Tina by Carl's car, waiting on Rory, who alwaystakes an extra couple of minutes taking the long way around theoutside of the building to avoid walking by the locker rooms.If mylast class wasn't on the exact opposite side of the building, I'dgo out of my way to walk her every day.
I wait to get into my caruntil I see her joining her friends.I want to wait even more, tosee if she seeks me out, makes eye contact, maybe even gives methat sweet smile of hers, but I don't.I have to play thegame.
Just friends.
And so I drive my boys tothe diner and pretend like hearing the girls will be meeting us forlunch didn't just brighten my day even further, and as I sit in thebooth, pretend I'm not carefully positioning myself to sit next toher.It's a farce that at least Tuck, and probably Dave and Andy,see right through, but they don't say a word.
The girls arrive and I getup to let Tina and Carl sit next to their guys.Rory makes her wayover to my side of the booth to sit next to me as planned, and herlips slide up into a small, sincere smile.I watch her face withgreed, and my eyes inexorably skate over her tight ass as she bendsto scoot in next to me.I can't pull them away, so I shut theminstead, for the barest of moments, before I grab a menu andpretend to look over offerings I've long memorized in an attempt todisguise my longing.
Dave and Tuck startarguing about the Knicks, who are actually in the playoffs thisseason, and I take advantage of the distraction and take anothersurvey of Rory.I watch as she stifles a yawn, grinding her teethtogether to quash it.But the scrunch of her eyes, they way theywater slightly, gives her away.
I lean down to her ear, Ican't help it."You okay?"I ask.
