Trailer Trash(57)

That brought a surge of hope. “He’s alive, then? He’s okay?”

But he knew he wasn’t. He could see it in his father’s eyes. “It doesn’t look good, Nate. The doctors say even if he lives, he’ll never be the same.”

Nate felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his world. He wanted to go back in time. To take back every bad thought he’d ever had about Logan, as if that could somehow change what had happened. “He’ll never be the same.” Nate didn’t even want to consider what those words meant. He thought he might be sick. Knowing it wasn’t really his fault didn’t make him feel any less guilty.

“I’m buying you a truck. I don’t want any arguments. I won’t even make you sell the Mustang, but I won’t have you driving it around on the icy roads.”

“Okay.”

“I have a squad car for the next few days. I want you to take my Jeep until then.” His dad’s jaw clenched. “No arguments, all right? The Mustang isn’t safe.”

Nate nodded, feeling completely helpless and tiny and terrible. “I understand.”





Monday started out bad and went downhill from there. Nate felt like he was toxic, the horrible knowledge of Logan and Shelley’s accident tucked into some dark corner of his heart. He’d prayed for the first time in years the night before, asking a God he’d never believed in to please make Logan better. Please let Logan come out of this unscathed. In the cold light of morning, it seemed feasible.

Logan was hurt, but he was strong. He was huge. He was larger than life. If anybody could beat this, it was Logan.

Nate walked into the school with a small seed of hope in his heart. He couldn’t say anything, and so he watched.

First period was small. It was calculus, and being the most advanced class the high school offered, not many people took it. Only half a dozen students normally, but on this day, they numbered only five. Nate eyed the empty desk that was usually filled by Logan’s giant frame.

By second period, people were starting to whisper. He spotted a couple of sophomore girls with their arms around each other, crying. Shelley’s friends, he assumed.

Third period was when it got real. The teacher was late arriving, and when she did, her eyes were red and swollen. The unruly class quickly settled, somehow sensing that their world was about to change.

It was clear she’d been told exactly what to say, and equally clear that in every classroom in Walter Warren High School, teachers were making the same announcement.

“Some of you may have heard rumors, but we’ve just received word.” She put her hands over her lips, visibly trying to steady herself. “There was an accident last night, up by where 220 meets 287. Shelley and Logan Robertson—” She gasped for air. “I’m afraid they’re—”

“Only Shelley,” somebody said. “I thought Logan was in the hospital.”

The teacher shook her head. New tears welled up in her eyes. “He was, but . . . not now. Not anymore.”

The tiny piece of hope in Nate’s chest shattered. For the rest of the period, the students were hushed and somber. Grief counselors would arrive the next day from Casper, but until then, there was nothing but an entire school of numb, shocked people.

Nate stumbled through the rest of his day. Teachers were quiet, not bothering to teach, some of them openly weeping. And the students . . .

The students.

Before the accident, Nate hadn’t thought he could hate Walter Warren High School more than he already did, but as the day wore on, his anger mounted. What should have been mourning was quickly growing into some kind of sick competition. Every girl seemed to be claiming she’d dated Logan. Every boy said he’d seen Logan just the other day. He had no doubt that the same thing was happening amongst the sophomores with Shelley.

“I talked to him on the phone on Friday.”

“I told her not to go to Casper.”

“He said we’d go out on a date this weekend, but I guess now it will never happen.”

“I know she was going to ask me out.”

“I wish we’d never broken up.”

I, I, I. That was all Nate heard: people trading memories that seemed to grow by the minute, trying to prove they had the most reason to grieve, vying for attention as they sobbed in the halls.

All but one.

Nate didn’t have to see Cody to know he wouldn’t be trading stories by his locker, or hugging it out next to the water fountain. He searched for him in the hallways, watching for that familiar shock of black hair. He arrived early to social studies and perched on the edge of his seat amongst the Mormons, wanting to catch Cody as soon as he came in.