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34

"There's a basketball game tonight," I told him. "Luna and everyone went. They said to say hi. I'm supposed to go over there after this."

I traced the red nurses'-call button on the side of his bed with my finger. "Remember when you wanted to try out for mascot and you got that threatening 'anonymous' letter that we all knew was from last year's mascot? And then you walked around telling everyone that you were still going to try out even though it was now life or death for you." I laughed. "That was nice of you not to in the end. Did you even really want to or had it always been a joke?" These were the kinds of things I should've asked him before. The kinds of things that didn't seem important but now that I was thinking about them, actually would've told me a lot about who he was . . . is. These were the things I was going to ask him when he woke up. Why hadn't I asked him these questions before? I was interested in him. Shouldn't I have wanted to know everything about him?

"I don't think I'd want to be a mascot. I'd be too self-conscious in front of everyone like that. You'd make a good timber wolf, though, because I'm pretty sure you love to be the center of attention. And you never seem to worry what anyone thinks. I wonder if the costume is super hot. I'd get claustrophobic. Did you know that about me, that I get panicky in small places? Where don't I get panicky, though, right?"

That was the closest I'd come to telling my friends about my anxiety. I rolled my eyes. "You can't count that as telling him, Addison. He's in a coma," I mumbled under my breath.

My stomach let out a large growl and I covered it. My phone said it was seven. I let my eyes wander around, take in each machine, the white walls, the ticking clock. My stomach growled again, so I stood. "I'll see you Monday, Jacob."

I sent a quick text to his mom. Yes, I was avoiding her. She would want a progress report and I hated having nothing good to tell her. Mostly, though, I just needed to get out of there.

The music was too loud when I started my car, and it made me jump. I quickly turned it down and drove out of the parking lot and toward the school. Just the thought of the basketball game made my insides twist. I didn't want to go. It was going to be loud and crowded and overwhelming. I didn't know if I could handle that right after leaving the hospital. But I told my friends I would, so I knew I had to. I could always leave later.

By the time I arrived at the game it was more than half over. I found Luna, Avi, and Morgan in the middle of the bleachers, their cheeks painted with a red number 4.

I laughed. "You are all supporting Wyatt? How is he going to choose between you?" Wyatt was the star of the basketball team. I'd taken his picture for yearbook, but outside of that we'd only interacted minimally.

"We'll share," Avi said right before standing up and screaming as our team scored two points.

I tried to get into the game, but the gym felt extra packed tonight and louder than usual. It made my chest vibrate and my eyes water.

"You okay?" Luna asked next to my ear.

I had put my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. "Yes," I said. "I'm just worried about Jacob."

"Let me know if worrying works and I'll jump on board."

I smiled over at her. "Sometimes I feel like it will."

She put her hand on my back. "Just think about the milk shakes we'll be drinking in thirty minutes. Those are the answer to every problem."

Maybe milk shakes were the answer to every problem, because the second we stepped inside Iceberg, things seemed much better. Quieter at least. I ordered a large chocolate shake and fries. As I sat down with my order, I remembered this was a meal Joey and I had talked about eating upon our escape.

"Why are you smiling?" Luna asked, sitting down next to me in the booth.

"Because this is excellent."

"Isn't it?"

I hadn't had the chance to talk to Luna about Joey yet, but I could now. After all, the worst had already happened: Joey was in a group home. Me telling Luna wouldn't change anything now. "And . . ."

"And what?"

"At the library—"

"Joey Birlem," she said.

"What? How did you . . ." I stopped when I saw her looking at the door.

My eyes immediately followed her gaze to where Joey and a couple of other people were walking to the counter. My heart skipped a beat.

"Who's he with?" Luna asked. "I've never seen him with anyone. Is that his dad? His dad is black?"

"Does Joey look black to you?"

"Maybe he's adopted, or half. You never know."

"It's his foster dad." Or group home dad, I wasn't sure what his official title was, but it was the man who had answered the door and gotten Joey for me when I went to his house the other day. He was talking to the cashier, then handing over his credit card.

I sat there, on edge, my shake clutched in my hands, waiting for Joey to turn and look. I could wave. He could wave back. That would show me he wasn't trying to brush me off like it seemed he was the other day on his porch.

He finally turned, but his eyes just scanned the room, only pausing on me for a second before they moved on. Total brush-off. I sat back in my seat. No wonder he had no friends.