Page 107 of Absorbed

I’d picked up the phone a dozen times

Too afraid to dial.

Then out of the blue he said,

‘We should watch the stars.’

I didn’t know what he really wanted.

I let it go too far.

I got too high, we dove too deep,

Burned by the summer sun.

No words could make things right.

No place far enough to drive.

Next thing I know, he’s on a stretcher

Lucky to be alive.

How did it get so fucked up?

When did things go so bad?

How did my summer fantasy

Become the worst nightmare I ever had?

I got too high, we dove too deep,

Burned by the summer sun.”

“Wow, Stacey.” Ms. Moreno had a look of compassion and understanding etched across her face. “I’m so honored you shared all of that with me. This journal is an intense and beautiful expression of your pain. You’ve experienced a lot this summer.”

Stacey nodded. “Doing this unlocked something inside me. Stuff I didn’t know what to do with before.”

“Yeah, and by the end it all came together into that powerful poem. They way it describes a moment when you get what you want and it’s nothing like you thought. Everyone goes through that. I bet you could turn those lines into lyrics for a song.”

Stacey shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Now I know you’re full of it.”

“Totally serious,” Ms. Moreno said. She put her hand on the page as if protecting it. “You really have something special here. Sleep on it, but if you ever decide to share it with anyone else, I’m certain they will tell you the same thing. You are so talented, Stacey. It shows whenever you take the feelings you keep locked inside and pour them all out onto a page.”

Stacey felt her cheeks warm. She looked down.

Ms. Moreno went on. “It’s also clear from everything you’ve shared that—while Jessie’s accident is tragic—what happened at the pool on Saturday was not your fault. Under the circumstances, it could have happened to anyone.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Stacey said, suppressing a yawn. She closed the journal and tied the twine. “Hopefully now I can sleep, at least.” Stacey picked up her journal and her keys, hershoulders feeling lighter as she stood. She pushed in her stool and started toward the door.

“Just a sec, Stace.” Ms. Moreno caught up to her in the doorway. The breeze of the fan blew over the pair of them as she handed Stacey another journal. “I put a new one together for you while you were working. Just in case something comes up, good or bad, and you want a place to put it down.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Moreno.” Before she knew what she was doing, Stacey had wrapped her arms around her art teacher, hugging her tightly. “For everything.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Stacey felt someone rubbing her shoulder and the bedsheet twisting in response.

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