Page 12 of On the Edge

“Holy shit, I can’t wait to tell Luke you said that.”

I sigh. “Okay, perhaps that was not quite right. But you understand? Carter needed a friend and was happy when I offered to become that friend. Atlas is not the same. He needs a friend, but does not want one.”

“Well, then you don’t need him as one anyway.”

I nod, because of course he is right. I cannot explain why I want Atlas to like me. I cannot even understand it myself. I just feel like it’s important. Atlas is important.

Almost as though my thoughts bring him to fruition, my cellphone buzzes with a text message as we exit the highway and drive toward campus. Beside me, Max is leaned back against the seat, eyes staring sightlessly at the passing darkness through the window. I squint down at my screen, unsure what I’m looking at.

Atlas

three melbourne place jslkdu big whit house

Henri

Good evening, Atlas. May I ask for clarification on your previous message?

Atlas

jesussssss just come hury up

Slightly alarmed, I type out several responses, but end up discarding them all. I wonder if he’s texted me by mistake. That makes more sense than him asking me to “just come hurry up.” Atlas would never invite me somewhere, unless it was off of a cliff.

Henri

Did you perhaps mean to text someone else?

There is no response. I stare at my phone, becoming a touch worried the longer I wait. Does he always text like that—with grammatical and spelling errors? I send another message to him, asking for more clarification. Again, I’m left with silence and my stomach erupts with nervous energy. The bus pulls to a stop in front of the rink and Coach Mackenzie rises to standing.

“Great job tonight. Go home and get some rest—I expect a repeat performance tomorrow.”

Max nods like Coach is giving him a direct order and several guys cheer. We get off the bus and gather our bags. I wait patiently for my teammates to get theirs before I attempt to grab my own, standing off to the side and nervously staring at my cellphone. Max steps over to me, his own bag slung over his shoulder and mine in his opposite hand.

“Oh, thank you. You did not have to get that,” I tell him.

“No worries. Can I give you a ride home?”

“Oh, no, thank you, Max. I am not far. I shall walk.”

Halfway back to my dorm, my phone rings. Thinking it might be Max or Coach Mackenzie needing me to come back to the rink, I stop and set my bag on the ground beforefishing my phone out. Atlas’ name flashes across the screen and I press the answer button with more force than is strictly necessary.

“Hello?”

“Henri-i-i-i,” Atlas sings. He’s barely audible over the bass of the music playing in the background. “Henri, Henri, Henri-i-i-i.”

“Atlas,” I interrupt. He’s saying my name strangely, dropping the H and giving the I an extended E sound. Disappointed, I realize that I know exactly why his text was so strange. “Atlas, are you drunk?”

He giggles. “Maybe.”

“Perhaps you could turn the music down?” I shout into the phone, fighting against the noise. He laughs again. It’s an unhinged noise, and I wish he would stop making it.

“Are you coming?” Another laugh. “You’re coming, right?”

I bend down to pick up my bag, sliding the strap over my shoulder and continuing to walk toward my dorm. Fatigue settles heavy over me once more. I’m too tired to deal with drunk people right now. I’m too tired to deal with Atlas.

“No, Atlas, I am not coming to the party. I must go to sleep.” It’s already past the time I’d usually be in bed, and I don’t adjust my daily schedule to accommodate late nights. It doesn’t matter how late I go to bed, I still get up at the same time.

“You have to come. I need you to come.”

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