Page 191 of Puck Me Back to Life

He tosses it off the roof, I watch the long descent.

“Rude.”

“I'm your coach. It's my job.”

I inhale. “I'm so tired.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean…” My voice cracks before I can stop it.

Coach doesn't look at me. That helps.

“I'm so tired of being him.” I close my eyes. “The fucking guy who survived.”

The silence that follows is brutal. Then Coach exhales. “Then stop trying to do it alone.”

I laugh once. It sounds awful. “Everyone keeps saying that.”

“Maybe everyone has a point.”

I don't answer.

Because if I do, I might cry.

And I am so tired of crying.

“Hayes, you didn't kill William. You didn't plot a murder and frame your skate. It was an accident.” The older man sighs. “It's happened before you and I'm sure it'll happen after.”

I don't say anything.

“Grief is a nasty thing. It can cloud your mind, make you act like someone you're not, until it's choking you. But it also tells you that you cared. It reveals how strong you can be despite it. But it's a heavy cross to bear. So don't bear it alone.”

I look out at the city, missing the cigarette that was robbed from me.

“Also, if you kill yourself, everyone is gonna call you a pussy.”

I snort. “What the fuck? That's evil.”

“It's true.”

Coach climbs off the wall to safety, offering me a hand. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“Inside.”

“I don't want to go to the hospital.”

“I know.”

“I'm not gonna apologize to Noah, either.”

“You're definitely not talking to Noah.”

I look up. “Then where?”

Coach's expression softens. “Grant's waiting downstairs.”