The Beginning of After

seen it before on him? Or maybe, on myself? My guard fell, and a voice inside me nudged, David is not his father. You don’t have to hate him, too.
    “No, I don’t mind,” I said. “He hogs the covers, but I can deal with that.”
    David burst out with a little laugh, just a snort really, and smiled a bit. He crawled back into the chair and took his first sip of coffee.
    “You’ve been home all this week? Out of school?” said David.
    “Yeah. I’m going back tomorrow.” Just saying it made me feel that much more like I would actually do it. “What about you?”
    “Nah, I’m failing two of my classes anyway. I’m done.”
    The nerd in me felt alarmed, and I couldn’t help saying, “Done? Like, dropping out?”
    David just shrugged and looked at me, like he was daring me to ask more, challenging me to try to talk him out of it.
    “Well, you’re lucky then,” was all I said, picking at a thumbnail. “Because you’ll miss that whole stupid senior talent show thing.”
    David snorted again and nodded, and then we went silent. But the air felt a little thinner, a little warmer now. After a few more moments, he slid back down to the floor, and Masher, who’d had his head resting in David’s lap, stretched out in front of him.
    “I’ve got some stuff to do, to get ready for tomorrow,” I said, getting up and taking two steps toward the stairs. He didn’t look up to say good-bye.
    “Stay as long as you want, David,” said Nana from the kitchen doorway. “Do you want a sandwich?”
    I didn’t wait to hear his answer, because suddenly being back in my room, without having to make conversation with David Kaufman, was all I wanted in life.
    There was a picture of the two of us, David and me, in a family photo album somewhere. We’re on my front lawn. It’s my first day of third grade and his first day of fourth grade. I’m grinning wide while holding a Snoopy lunch box, and he’s standing with his hands on his hips, so over the whole thing. I remember us walking to the bus stop and then him moving away from me to talk to Lydia Franco, who was ten and unimaginably streetwise. But on some weekends we went for walks in the woods, and he’d show me the old stone homestead walls that ran through the back of our neighborhood.
    We did this until the year David started middle school. Although we waited at the same stop, he took a different bus now, and he had simply stopped talking to me. I think I asked him a question once and he just looked at me, smiled, and turned away. That was it, like someone finally switching off a TV that’s been left on too long. If I felt hurt, I never admitted it. Soon, Meg moved to the neighborhood and I had someone, and that was all that mattered.
    When I got to my room, Elliot and Selina were both on the bed, giving me these looks.
    “Sorry, guys, the dog’s not leaving yet,” I said, and crawled under the covers.

Chapter Six

    M r. Churchwell got up from behind his desk to join me on the small, beat-up leather couch in his office, forcing me to inch a little farther toward my end. The cushion made a poosh sound as he settled in, smiling at me. It felt like being on a date with someone’s tragically dorky uncle.
    “So, you feel okay? Anything you want to talk to me about?” he said.
    I had made it here, to school, just like I said I would. Mr. Churchwell had asked me to come in a bit early, before homeroom if I could, to “check in” and “touch base.” It hadn’t even been two weeks since the accident, but it didn’t seem possible that I could be anywhere else.
    “I’m glad to be out of the house, actually,” I offered. It was true. I had been able to look at people’s faces when I walked into the school and down the main hallway toward my locker. Some had smiled at me, and I had smiled back.
    “Mmmm, yes. I don’t blame you. It’s important to resume your usual routine.”
    “Plus, I was starting to get a little too good at The Price Is Right . Do you believe what a good washer-dryer combo costs these days?”
    He donated a short, humoring chuckle. “Well, take it easy today. If you need some time out of the classroom, a break or anything, just let your teachers know. They’re ready to help.”
    “You talked to them about me?” I asked.
    “Just to tell them you were coming back. And I spoke with Emily Heinz about the Tutoring Club. She says she can take charge of things until you feel like getting involved again.”
    I’d started the