Most of the kids at school had no idea what happened, and those who did fortunately didn't say anything. Many of them didn't make any relation between Jonah and I, probably because most of them didn't know how close to him I was; or maybe they just didn't care.
Everything was just out of whack. I was a good student - if straight Cs were considered good. I paid attention in class, did my work. But today it was hard to focus.
With everyone staring at me, and with everyone expecting me to be okay, I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. Usually, I'd be able to fight it off.
Today, it seemed to be crushing me - stomping me so hard into the ground that I was nothing but dirt.
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If there were a word worse than 'terrible,' that would descibe how bad school went.
Not because of how my teachers and friends were expecting me to be, but because of how I was expecting myself to be. The last thing I wanted was to forget him, but I didn't want to remember him like this. I didn't want to remember him as my dad's best friend - my best friend - who died. I didn't want to relate him to the pain I felt when I was home alone in my room, just thinking about him and how things would be without him.
I was tired of thinking about him so much. I was tired of not being able to live a normal life for the past two weeks because of what happened.
I was tired of not being able to tell anyone.
It's sort of like that Vegas rule: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. But it was more like "What happens in Eli's head, stays in Eli's head."
And I was a little bit tired of that too.