Parker flinched. Ava’s words from that day in film studies floated up so naturally in her mind that it was as if Ava were right beside her, whispering in her ear. She looked at the stage again. Mr. Obata, the principal, was flipping through some slides for the presentation he was about to give. Some were pictures of Nolan through the years—winning the lacrosse state championship, being crowned homecoming king, holding court in the cafeteria. Parker was even in a few of them, from back when she and Nolan had been friends. Other slides were generic images of prescription pills. So this was also going to have an antidrug message, since all the rumors said he’d accidentally overdosed on OxyContin, his drug of choice.
And then came the kicker: the image of Nolan that Mackenzie had posted online shortly after the party, the one with the writing on his face. The picture was mostly blurred out, but the comments below—a long paragraph telling the world how horrible Nolan was—were not. So it was going to be a bullying assembly, too.
Irony of ironies, considering Nolan had been the biggest bully of all.
Parker’s memory began to spin with thoughts of Nolan. Climbing in the car with him. Laughing at his dirty jokes. Driving fast along the coastal road to chase away the fear. The shiny feeling from drinking almost a whole bottle of vodka between the two of them. And then, that last night, when he slipped OxyContin into her drink without telling her. Afterward he’d said, Isn’t it amazing? No charge. My gift to you.
They’d been friends for years, but after that night, he never spoke to her again. He pretended as if she didn’t exist. And meanwhile, it was all his fault. If he hadn’t given her those pills, things would be different now. She would be her old self. Undamaged. Beautiful, full of life. Present. Perfect.
He deserves it, she remembered saying mere days ago. Everyone hates him. They’re all just too scared to admit it. We’d be heroes.
All at once, the world swirled unsteadily. A white-hot spike of pain shot through Parker’s forehead, streaking like lightning across her vision. When she tried to move, her muscles cramped. Her eyes fluttered shut.
Julie nudged her forward. “Come on,” she whispered. “We have to sit down. We have to act normal.”
Another wave of pain hit Parker’s head. Her knees buckled. She’d gotten enough migraines after her accident that she knew this was the start of another. But she couldn’t have it here. Not in the auditorium in front of all these people.
A weak groan emerged from her lips. Through blurred vision, she could just make out the sudden concern in Julie’s face. “Oh my god,” Julie said, immediately seeming to recognize what was going on. “I didn’t realize. Come on.”
Julie pulled her up and led her out of the auditorium and to the box office alcove above. The air smelled like lemon cleaner, and dust motes swirled in the air. Posters for upcoming events papered the ticketing window—a flyer for Guys and Dolls, another for the upcoming Honors Orchestra Fall Concert. There was even an old playbill with Parker on it, from when she played Juliet sophomore year.
Julie sat Parker down. “Breathe,” she said softly. “It’s a bad one, isn’t it?”
“I’m fine,” Parker managed to say, her fists clenched in her blond hair. She blinked a few times, her vision clearing. The pain subsided to a dull ache, but her mind felt scattered.
“Are you sure?” Julie asked, kneeling next to her. “Do you want me to get the nurse?”
“No,” Parker croaked. She took a shuddering breath. “I’m okay. It’s just a headache.”
Julie set her jaw, reached into her purse, and pulled out the bottle of aspirin she carried around for just this occasion. She handed two pills to Parker, and Parker swallowed them dry, feeling the rough tablets grate against the sides of her throat.
Julie waited until Parker had choked down the pills, then breathed in. “Have you thought more about . . . talking to a therapist?”
Parker recoiled. “Not this again.”
“I’m serious.” Julie’s eyes were pleading. “Parker, your headaches are getting worse, and the stress doesn’t help. And with this Nolan thing . . . well, I’m just worried about you.”
“No therapist.” Parker crossed her arms over her chest. She pictured baring her soul to a complete stranger while he stared at her and asked, “Well, how do you feel about that?” As if he really cared.
“I spoke to someone recently . . . about my mom.” Julie lowered her eyes.
Parker whipped her head up. “What? When?”
“Last week. I was going to mention it, but then everything happened, and . . .” She trailed off.
Parker held her best friend’s gaze. Julie looked so hopeful. Parker knew this was hard on her best friend, that she was different now in the After part of her life than she’d been Before. And Julie was all she had left. She didn’t want to let her down.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “But don’t be upset if I bail after ten minutes.”
“Deal.” Julie’s shoulders visibly relaxed. She gave Parker an earnest, grateful smile. “But you won’t. I think he could really help you.”
Parker stood up, nodded good-bye to Julie, and headed for the exit door. She suddenly, desperately, needed a cigarette.