Trailer Trash(63)

It seemed like a lot of trouble for him to go to, but Cody didn’t mind the extra company.

The “grief frenzy”—dubbed so by Nate, his voice thick with disdain—seemed to be in full swing for the second day in a row, everybody trying to one-up each other in their sadness. Other than talking to Nate, Cody kept his head down and did his best not to hear what was being said. There were sign-up sheets to talk to grief counselors. Nate stopped Cody in front of one and nodded toward it without saying anything, his raised eyebrows turning it into a question.

On some level, Cody knew it made sense, but he couldn’t make himself put his name on that sheet. He didn’t need some stranger asking him how he’d known Logan, or how close they’d been. He just shook his head, and Nate shrugged and moved on.

Cody had shared two classes with Logan, the first one being PE. Although Logan had always been friendly toward him, they were definitely in very different worlds when it came to sports, and so Cody was used to only saying hello in the locker room and not much else. But social studies was different. That was the place he’d counted on Logan the most, and walking into that classroom took more strength than he expected. It helped that Nate was right behind him, but he still froze two steps into the room, causing Nate to bump into him.

“Go ahead,” Nate said quietly, almost in Cody’s ear.

Cody eased into his seat, steeling himself for the grief, feeling almost as if his desk were a trap that might spring on him at any moment. He held very still, trying not to think about how much he still hurt. Nate took the open desk next to him—the desk that should have been Logan’s. It was strange, having him there. Wrong somehow, because Cody desperately wanted to see Logan’s long legs blocking the aisle as he leaned over to chat, and yet having Nate there was still so much better than having the seat be empty.

After class, Nate followed him out of the classroom, practically knocking over a freshman to stay on Cody’s heels.

“I’m okay,” Cody said. “I can go to my locker without falling apart, I promise.”

Nate smiled. “I know, but then you’ll try to sneak past me and walk home rather than letting me give you a ride.”

Cody grudgingly admitted to himself that he might have done exactly that. In the end, Nate drove him home, then spent half an hour fiddling with the foil-wrapped rabbit ears just so they could watch TV. It was like having a babysitter, but Cody appreciated the company.

By Wednesday, the grief frenzy was beginning to abate. Still, it was with a heavy weight in his stomach that Cody asked Nate to drop him off at work after school, rather than take him home.

The back area of the Tomahawk was the same as always—warm and steamy, the air heavy with the smell of soap and the clatter of noise from the kitchen. Cody made it through half of his shift before he started crying. Standing there up to his elbows in dishwater, he could almost hear Logan’s voice. He could imagine him working right behind him, stretching to put the bowls on the shelves Cody couldn’t reach.

“You okay, sugar?”

Cody jumped, trying to wipe his eyes with hands that were wet and prune-y. It was one of the waitresses. She was in her early thirties and always worked the dinner shift. Cody didn’t know her name, had barely exchanged more than a few hellos with her, but she pulled him into a hug, holding him in a way nobody but Nate had done in a long time. It was surprising and awkward, but it felt genuine.

“It’s a shame,” she said, still hugging him. “We’ll all miss him.”

She patted him on the back and left him with the dishes, somehow feeling a bit less alone than he had before.

By Thursday, the school seemed almost back to normal, and there was no school at all on Friday, because that was the day of the funeral.

Cody wasn’t sure if he wanted to go, but Nate insisted. It was held at the biggest church in town, which still turned out to be too small. Cody sat next to Nate in the back pew as the room filled around them. The two caskets at the front of the room were closed. Cody was almost relieved he wasn’t expected to walk up there and see Logan’s face again. He wasn’t sure he could have handled that.

He started out listening, but it didn’t take him long to realize the funeral had nothing to do with Logan and Shelley. There was a lot of talk about God, and the Kingdom of Heaven, and Cody grew more and more agitated as the speakers droned on. They weren’t talking about Logan at all. Nobody mentioned how friendly he was, or how he stood out at Walter Warren High School simply because he refused to conform to social expectations. Nothing about the funeral captured Logan’s spirit, or his laughter, or his larger-than-life presence.