Page 3 of Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

Life moved on. Nate’s death had initially shaken the community, but as the sun continued to rise each morning, life soon settled back into its predictable routine in our small town of Haverton.

There was a knock on the door, and my dad stuck his head inside. “Get up. Breakfast is ready for you downstairs.”

One look at the clock confirmed I had overslept again.

“Fuck,” I breathed out, sliding my quilt off and swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I quickly moved through a shower and dried my hair, which desperately needed a cut to get rid of the dry ends. I pulled on clean clothes—a gray hoodie and my favorite boyfriend jeans—and made my way downstairs, where my dad was listening to the news while drinking his spiked coffee. Like me, he struggled to sleep. His dark, scraggly hair resembled a bird’s nest atop his head.

I devoured the scrambled eggs and sausage in record time, knowing Evelyn would come to pick me up for school any minute now.

I hadn’t driven since that night and couldn’t bring myself to get behind the wheel. I still recalled the heavy thud when we hit his body—a sound that would live with me forever.

“Bring your coat,” Dad said when the horn sounded, downing the last of his coffee. “It’s cold outside.”

Standing from the table, I quickly rinsed the plate and cutlery before waving my dad goodbye and entering the hallway. I grabbed my coat, sliding my feet into my black studded boots.

I wore Chucks the night Nate died—my favorite brand of shoes. But since then, I couldn’t bring myself to even look at the pair I had hidden in my wardrobe.

I should have burned them like I did the rest of the clothing.

Evelyn had messaged me to meet her down by the abandoned train tracks by the river and to bring my clothes from the previous night. Once there, she poured gasoline over the pile, throwing a match and watching it catch alight. We didn’t speak of the car crash again. It remained an unspoken secret between us.

Stepping outside into the cloudy fall morning, I jogged to Evelyn’s car.

Across the street, Mrs. Miller, an elderly lady with graying hair, stared at me through narrowed eyes as she sat in her swing chair on the porch. She was suspicious of everyone and everything in this small town. Sometimes I even thought she knew my secret.

A shiver ran through me, but I ignored it, sliding into the passenger seat and tossing my bag into the back.

Evelyn reapplied her pink lipstick in the mirror and puffed up her hair. “You stink of a fry up.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled, fastening my seatbelt. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Her nose wrinkled, blue eyes sweeping over my hair and clothes.

While we were good friends, I knew she wished I would make an effort.

Somewhere deep inside, I couldn’t help but feel like I was cramping her style. She was too polite to say it, though. We’d been friends ever since she dropped her ice cream at Sarah’s birthday party, and I offered her mine. I was only invited in the first place because Sarah was my toxic cousin who thought she was above everyone. That was probably also why she was the reigning queen bee.

Evelyn drove us away from the sidewalk and onto the road, brushing a strand of wavy blonde hair away from her brow.

She smelled of floral perfume and her coconut shampoo. Her expensive fake fur coat lay discarded on the backseat, and her baby pink fuzzy cardigan sported frills at the collar and wrists. She’d matched it with a pair of high-waisted leather pants and chunky black boots.

Evelyn was the definition of girly with an edge.

“We’re going to the graveyard tomorrow for a few drinks ahead of the one-year anniversary.”

“Don’t you think drinking in a graveyard is a bit taboo?”

Shrugging her bony shoulders, she checked the mirrors. “I think we’re teenagers who need to relax and do stupid shit before adulthood hits like a wrecking ball and sucks out all of the fun.”

Laughter bubbled up inside me. I’d never known anyone more scared of aging than Evelyn. If she had her way, we’d stay in high school forever.

“You know I struggle with socializing since…” That night.

Poking her tongue into her cheek, she nodded softly while keeping her eyes on the road. “I know.”

I didn’t need to explain. Evelyn got it. She struggled too, in her own unique way.

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