A Loser With A Cellphone (Alex Standall)

100

Faith had dialed 9-1-1 the moment that the text from Alex had pinged through and she'd anxiously scanned through what he'd said. From the corner of her classrooms, where she could see but be unseen, she had watched Hannah Baker's decline. She had noted the way that people treated her, the slight quirks in her face and actions that gave away how she felt.
Of course, Faith had no way of knowing what she would do. If she didn't, she would've spoken up. Of course she would've. But even though she wasn't one of the reasons, even though a tape wasn't delivered to her front doorstep, Faith carried a bit of the guilt tucked away in her heart, knowing that she could've done something. That she could've said something. That if she hadn't let her anxiety get in the way, if she'd been a friend to Hannah...well, maybe things would've turned out differently. But she spent more than enough time obsessing over "what-if's." The truth was, there was no way for her to go back in time. There would be no bringing Hannah back.
But there was still a fighting chance for Alex.
The truth was, Faith was probably more attentive than at least 99% of the rest of her peers at school. Even before Alex had told her about the tapes, she'd sensed that something was up. That some of their classmates knew more than others. She could've continued to hide in the shadows and watched the same story play out again.
She hasn't.
She had swallowed down her anxiety and acted against the very bane of her existence by reaching out to Alex. She hadn't found his number on the band room floor. She'd convinced Zach to give it to her, even though doing so made her want to melt into the floor.
It had been worth it. It had been more than worth it. Because in what was designed to be a hero mission, she had found a friend. Somebody who understood her, who was willing to put up with her fears, who found her sarcasm endearing, and not annoying. Her gave her the nickname Lyrical - She didn't hate her name, like she'd told him. She just loved it when he called her Lyric.
Her eyes were overflowing with tears now, so much so that she couldn't see the road, but she drove on, praying that she wouldn't crash. In trying to give Alex a reason to live, she had found one herself. She wasn't ready to give up on him. As she pressed down on the accelerator, she mumbled prayers that it wasn't too late. That he would take one moment, just one moment, to sit and reconsider what he was doing. That he would live. She'd never been very religious, but if there was ever a time to ask for help from a higher force up above, it was now.
By the time she made it to Alex's house, the ambulance was already there, paramedics swarming around it and in and out of the house like ants. She ran out of her car, legs barely working, and watched, paralyzed, as a stretcher was carried out of the house.
She used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes and clear her vision - The paramedics were still running about. They were frantic, in a hurry. She stumbled off to the side as they finished up, and the ambulance took off, racing to the hospital. But there wasn't a body bag. There weren't looks of tired defeat perched upon their faces. She didn't know what would happen, but for now, he was alive.
He was alive.