The Beginning of After

Confused and devastated, sort of like me.
    Fifteen minutes later, I found myself on the Mitas’ porch, knocking.
    “What?” said Nana when I told her.
    “I feel it’s the right thing to do,” I offered in my defense.
    “Can I at least think about it overnight?”
    “Mr. Mita’s bringing him over in half an hour. He’s just getting the bowls and food and stuff from the Kaufmans’.”
    “Laurel . . . ,” Nana said, dropping her head so she could rub her forehead with two fingers. “You know how I feel about dogs.”
    But then she looked up at me and I met her eyes, and I could see her giving in.
    Wow , I thought. She can’t say no to me.
    I’d always wanted a dog, for as long as I could remember. “We travel too much,” my dad would say when I mentioned it. “I’m not a dog person,” my mother would whine.
    So I chose to picture only Toby’s reaction—laughing, rolling on the floor with glee—when Masher burst into our living room that night, all hyper and poking his nose everywhere he could fit it. He smelled musty and his coat was dusty, and he kept shaking it out like he was trying to brush off the lonely, dark, sad place his home had become, and I vowed to give him a bath in the morning. In minutes he was curled on top of me, panting and licking my elbows, and getting dirty looks from the cats.
    I started studying like crazy. It seemed my fingertips were always on the edge of the SAT book, feeling the frayed softness or running across the glossy surface of its cover. When Meg came over so we could quiz each other, we didn’t ever talk about school, but one night she said casually, “Julia La Paz came over today and talked to me. She asked me how you were.”
    “Ew.”
    Julia was David’s girlfriend and had neon-pink hair down past her shoulders. Sometimes people called her “My Little Pony” to be mean.
    “No, she was like, kinda nice. Depressed, actually. She hasn’t heard from David in a week.”
    I tried to picture Meg and Julia chatting together by a locker, their heads close, but couldn’t do it. It was like trying to imagine the earth flat.
    “Did she go to the hospital? She knows he’s there, right?”
    Meg nodded. “She knows. She’s just scared.”
    And then I shut up, because yeah, I would be scared too.
    On SAT Saturday I awoke from the deepest sleep I’d had since the accident. I didn’t have any dreams, and my sheets weren’t even soaked with sweat. Right away, words started marching through my head. Assiduous : “hard-working.” Ostentatious : “displaying wealth.” Vindicate : “to clear from blame.” Rancorous : “hateful.” They came in an order that made no sense to me but seemed prearranged by something.
    Dad? Is it you, doing that?
    Then I shook the notion loose, out of my head. There was no room for that today.
    An hour later, the Dills’ minivan pulled up the driveway where I was pacing back and forth, and I was surprised to see Mrs. Dill behind the wheel with that wide, rigid smile she’d always had for me, even before the accident. Meg was slumped in the backseat. As I climbed in next to her, she rolled her eyes.
    “Mom insisted on driving us. She says she wants me to relax.”
    “Are you nervous?” I asked.
    “I stopped studying at eight o’clock and watched TV all night. I figure, if I don’t know it by now, I never will.”
    We rode in silence toward the high school, and it hit me. I was going to see people. They were going to see me.
    As we stepped inside the lobby of the main entrance, I locked my eyes onto a spot on the floor, not knowing where to look. But within seconds I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to see Mr. Churchwell.
    “Laurel!” he said with a plastered-on grin. “It’s so good to see you.” Then, his voice got lower and the grin vanished. “You’re okay? You still want to do this?”
    I nodded, and then he pulled me aside.
    “Well, we’ve arranged something a little special for you. The College Board gave us permission to let you take the test in a room by yourself. I will be there too, of course, but no other students. Would you like that?”
    I looked at his bright eyes, that earnest wrinkle in the middle of his forehead, and wondered if anyone in the adult world thought he was cute.
    “Thank you,” I said. “That would be great.”
    “I’ll take you to the classroom we’ve set up for you.” He started to lead me away, and I turned back to Meg, who had been watching us and was now