Some Quiet Place

flounder.
    He finally chooses to say what thousands, millions before him have said. “I’m sorry.”
    Feeling his gaze on me, I just count the lines in that sidewalk. I expected something different from him, somehow.
    When I don’t respond, Joshua clears his throat. “I know people around here aren’t making that big a deal out of it, but it’s because none of them knew Maggie. I knew her, though. She was in one of my art classes, once. She made fun of my tree.” He laughs at the memory. I can imagine the scene, and it’s classic Maggie. Decked out in all her black and skulls, she’s pointing at his sketchpad and laughing.
    Joshua knows he isn’t doing this right. He’s probably remembering how he felt when his mom died.
    I decide to change the subject. “I’m sorry I never gave you my part of the portfolio. It was irresponsible of me.”
    He stares at me in disbelief. “I’m not worried about it, Elizabeth. Mrs. Farmer isn’t, either. She knows about Maggie.”
    I squint up at the sky. Irony of ironies, it’s sunny today. “I shouldn’t be given special treatment. I’ll finish my part of the homework and hand it in.”
    Joshua processes this. He probably decides it’s is my way of dealing with the grief. “Look, I know this must be hard for you. So if you ever need to talk, well, I’m not a counselor or anything, but I am a friend. You can call me anytime.”
    I turn my head to meet his gaze, cold. “Joshua, I don’t care that Maggie died. I watched the life drain from her and I didn’t feel a thing. You don’t need to have the right words, or say anything comforting. I’m fine, I always will be, and nothing is going to change. The world will go on as it always has, no matter who dies. You’d better get used to that.”
    I get up and leave him there with his empty words and sad eyes.
    “I can’t believe you’re still going to this thing,” Fear hisses in my ear as I guide my truck up Sophia Richardson’s driveway. Looks like everyone is here for the big birthday party. Her house is a couple miles from town, in a wooded area, a big two-story her parents bought before the divorce. As we pull up I see that someone’s started a bonfire and the hot tub is uncovered. Kids are already getting drunk; someone is vomiting into a bush.
    “Why wouldn’t I?” I park my truck away from the other cars, between two trees, and kill the engine. Fear vanishes from his seat and appears beside me as I get out. He’s gritting his teeth.
    “I think we both know the answer to that,” he says doggedly and tries to stare me down. I brush past him, the proximity to his essence causing the usual frightening images to race through me.
    Ignoring this, I start toward the hot tub, which is where most of the kids are. I know Fear will follow me. “Do you want answers or not?” I challenge him, skirting around a loud couple making out in the grass.
    He growls as he exhales. “You’re a coward. I know what you’re doing.”
    Music makes the ground shake, and a loud laugh rings out. It’s dark, and Sophia has put up some medieval-looking torches. The flames flicker and cast strange shadows everywhere. I make sure not to look at Fear so nothing seems amiss. “What am I doing?” I question him, sounding genuinely curious.
    A girl shoves past me, calling out, “Sean! Hey, Sean, over here!” and when I stumble, Fear steadies me. Once I’m upright he tries to make me face him, but I escape his grip and keep walking.
    Fear stalks me now. “You never told Maggie Stone how you really felt, and it’s the least of what you owed her,” he snaps. “It’s eating you up inside.”
    “And how did I really feel about her?” I ask, surveying the interactions around the hot tub like they really interest me. A few people have brought their swimsuits, and I watch a boy shove a girl into the water. She shrieks in mock outrage. There are many Emotions here tonight, and these kids are consumed by them.
    If possible, Fear gets angrier. He disappears and bursts in front of me again. He seizes my shoulders in his zeal to make me see the truth. “We both know that you were affected by that girl’s death,” he insists. “Even though you never gave her anything back, she stayed. Even when all the other kids shied away and hated you, Maggie—a simple human child—loved you. And no matter what you say, I know you loved her back. I saw the way you looked at her in that hospital room.”
    “Sometimes you see things