“How could you not know?” begged Carly. “I mean, I know you’ve been locked up in your room and all, but you never watched the news?”
The blank look on my face must have said it all, because she sighed. I’d made it a point to avoid the news at all cost after my stay at the hospital. Channel 5 was bleeding coverage about the accident, plastering Blaine’s face along with mine across the screen every chance they got.
“The night of the bonfire, one of the buses heading to the basketball tournament…it vanished. It had Hersey High’s entire basketball team and cheerleading squad onboard. Everyone across the county went crazy. We even set up search parties around here. You should’ve joined us. Would’ve been a good distraction. The guys came with V and me to go through Tyler Park and the surrounding woods.”
“Did they find the bus?”
“The bus, the driver, the students. Gone.”
“Our own team and cheerleaders were reported missing as well,” whispered Vanessa.
“What?”
“Yeah, but it turned out to be nothing,” she quickly added. “Apparently, after the tournament was over, everyone decided to skip the bonfire and go to Jacob Marshall’s lake house to party. They all crashed there for the night, so when news about Hersey broke the next morning, everyone’s parents went nuts thinking their kids went missing too. It was a whole fiasco.”
My stomach somersaulted. Blaine had mentioned something about the lake house and how he’d blown it off so he could come to the bonfire instead…to see me.
“You okay?” asked Carly.
“I just want to get this day over with,” I murmured as we walked past another group of gossiping classmates.
Calculus and Bio both went by in a blur. My attention on the assignments was nonexistent and by third period, I felt sick. I’d tried convincing myself that it was all in my head, that anxiety was simply getting the better of me. Even sitting in my desk, I felt lightheaded, and my stomach lurched achingly. It felt like I hadn’t eaten anything in days, despite having had a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a whole stack of pancakes just a few hours ago. Maybe my blood sugar was on the fritz.
The moment class let out, I staggered down the hallway and practically tackled the vending machine as I dug around in my pocket for change. Reassurance escaped me though as the coil pushing my purchased protein bar stopped just short of letting the snack fall. My dignity was nonexistent as I batted the glass before crumpling on the ground beside the machine, trying to find more coins in my book satchel.
“Hey, you okay?” Gentle blue eyes greeted me as I looked up.
“Adam…hi. No. I mean, yes. I’m fine. I-I’m just trying to find some money. The machine didn’t give me my bar.” I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since before the night of the accident, and things hadn’t ended particularly well.
“May I?” He gestured at the vending machine.
“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to waste your money. I’ve got some quarters in here somewhere,” I insisted, rummaging through my bag more determinedly.
He smiled. “Lean forward.”
I looked at him questioningly, but did as he requested. Securing both arms around the sides of the machine, Adam gently rocked it back and forth. A soft thump registered, and he coaxed it back on all fours like it weighed nothing. He plucked out my protein bar from the bottom slot and handed it over.
“You really shouldn’t do that,” I said. “Statistically, you’re more likely to die from a vending machine crushing you than being killed by a shark.”
He grinned. “Yeah, you told me that the last time I did that.”
“Oh…”
“And I looked it up. It’s still only a one in a hundred million chance.”
I hated it when he said things like that, because it was oddly sweet. He failed spectacularly at delivering on the important things when we were together, but in all earnestness, he always recalled the little things…like he cherished them enough that he’d take the effort to do a fact check.
And I highly doubted he’d get flattened by the vending machine, though I admittedly use to fantasize about it when he’d do things like ditch me out of nowhere. Adam was really strong. Not in a beefy sort of way, but he was solidly built. He really enjoyed working out, especially kickboxing and strength training; though you couldn’t tell how muscular he was just by looking at him. He dressed rather demurely, hiding his frame beneath flannel shirts and loose jeans.
I could tell he’d just worked out too, observing the dampness of his thick, slicked back ashy brown hair. He always showered after gym class and practice, and the fresh scent of mint lingered on his skin as he extended his hand to me.