Page 80 of The Lies Always Told

“There’s not much I can say, but I can tell you this. The threat has been identified and handled.”

“What do you mean by handled?” I ask again. What was the threat? What can they tell me?

“I can’t say more. I’m sorry.”

I blink once, twice, and then it feels like, suddenly, there is another man in front of me. This one wears a navy blue uniform, asking me questions muffled by the loud thumping in my head. I blink again, and it may sound clearer, but my head is still foggy thinking about it all. It doesn’t stop me from actually hearing him this time, though.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything one more time, slowly,” the police officer says.

The words sit heavy in the air, but I nod again. My stomach twists, the feeling of drowning pulling me down further. There’s no going back now. Whatever happens next isout of my control. All I can do is tell him everything I know. A mandatory reporter, that’s what I am, even if I have no clue what’s actually happening. I can give the details of what I do know.

Were the notes his? The poem? The pieces of paper shredding my heart to pieces because they were conveying so much meaning? Is this what he was referring to? Oh, God. How long has this kid been showing signs, and I missed them all?

Time passes by naturally, as it always does. Time doesn’t shift, because I’m losing my mind. Time doesn’t change just because I feel like I might both throw up or pass out at any moment. Time passes until they’re about to lift the code red and dismiss the students one at a time. No walking home, no buses, nothing. Parents have to come pick up the children at the office. It will take hours, but this is what they’ve decided. This is what’s best. Nobody has told me or anyone else what happened.

A door opens down the hallway, and two police officers escort Cody out. I keep my head low; maybe if I don’t see him, he won’t see me. But it’s too late—he already has.

“You told them! You told them! You said you were a safe space, but you told them!” he screams at me. I am a safe space, buddy, but if your life is in danger, I have to say something. If others are in danger, I have to say something. Things I want to say but can’t, because I’m just frozen in place.

He’s trying to walk to me, but the police stop him. He’s not handcuffed, so he’s not in trouble, so why is he so upset? Why are they taking him? Can’t speak. Can’t reply. Can’t say anything.

“What did you do, Ms. Thompson? You might as well have killed me yourself,” he screams again. This time, the taller police officer, one I’ve never seen before, grabs him by the arm and practically drags him out of the school into a police car.

“Please keep him safe!” I finally shout while someone holds me back. “Please…” I break into sobs. “Keep him safe.” Cody and the police officer look back, but where the police officer shows me sympathy, Cody shows me anger.

“Please.” Another broken sob. Another silent prayer. I fall onto my knees and cry. A soft hand pats my back, and by the time I look up, they’re gone. Time passes, and I stand with my arms wrapped around my body. My nails dig into my skin. I keep counting lines on the tile until I can breathe again, until everyone’s gone. The hallway is silent again, and the code red is lifted. Four hours later, all the students have been dismissed, and we, the staff, are sent home.

TWENTY-FIVE

ANSWER THE PHONE

My Fault byNoah Cyrus Ft. Shaboozy

Gus

“Here are your keys,”Santiago says, walking my way to the Baker Auto’s waiting room. Jake and his dad own this place, and it’s the only place I trust to work on the Barracuda. Even when Jake and Allie were apart, this is where I would take it for maintenance.

“Is it behaving well?”

“You take good care of that beauty, so nothing major. Bring it back in eight to twelve weeks.”

“Gracias,” I reply, taking my keys and tapping him on the back.

“Can I ask something that is none of my business?” he asks, tilting his body against the wall and crossing his arms in front of him. He’s quiet for the most part, and if it wasn’t because I know he’s kind from being part of the same friend group, I would think he’s an asshole based solely on his looks.Dark eyebrows make him always look mad, tattoos all over the place. Textbookdo not approach, but he’s anything but. Another example of bias and judging a book by its cover.

“Are you dating Nellie?” Oh shit, here we go.

“I better sit down, huh?” There’s not an easy answer to that question, because in reality, the answer is no, but how do I explain the physical pain I feel when I’m not with her? How restless I am at the thought of not having her in my arms? How I wish I could turn back time and do it all over again, same but different, just so I don’t hurt her, so I could erase this wedge I drove between us. How do I tell him I can’t imagine my life without her, but that we’re not actually together?

“You don’t have to. I know we’re not close or anything, and if I’m overstepping, let me know.”

“No, no. It’s fine. The answer is complicated.”

He nods, walking up to the stool in front of me and sitting down. “¿Te puedo dar un consejo??1”

“Dale.?2”

“Whatever it is, if you love her, uncomplicate it. Too much gets in the way of our happiness already without us being in our own way. Life’s too damn short to play it safe. So whatever is making it complicated, if it’s within your reach, fix it.”

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