Extraordinary Means by Robyn Schneider

excusing me from gym class. I’d thought Hannah knew that, or at least that she understood the difference between terminal and incurable. I’d thought she understood a lot of things. And I thought I had, too.
    I’d been so stupid. It was never going to work out with Hannah and me. Staying together while I went off to Latham was a joke. We’d been humoring each other, but it wasn’t funny anymore. I didn’t know if she’d sent me that essay because it said what she was afraid to tell me—that she wanted to move on. Or if she’d genuinely wanted me to have it, like some fucked-up tribute.
    At least I got some small satisfaction from knowing how awkward it would be for her when I returned to Harbor, and to her classes. And when she saw me around campus at Stanford—if she even got in. I hoped that sob story of an essay ruined her chances.
    I’d done so much of her English homework. Come up with her essay topics, helped her put together the outlines,proofed every one of her papers, even the two-page weekly responses. I’d carried us through physics for the entire thermodynamics unit because she was too stressed over the SATs to prep for labs. And I hadn’t minded. I’d been happy to help, because it meant I had someone to spend time with, instead of studying alone in my room. Instead of being the guy everyone hesitated over before inviting me to things, because no one really wanted to hang out with their hard-ass history teacher’s kid.
    I read her essay one more time, just in case I’d overreacted, just to make sure it really was as bad as all that.
    It was worse.
    I took the stairs down to the common room and let myself out of the dorm. It was cool outside, the whole world vibrating with the low hum of crickets, or maybe cicadas. I could never tell the difference. I stood there for a minute, not knowing what to do or where to go. Latham still felt so wrong, like I was living someone else’s life, because this couldn’t be mine.
    I could see the gazebo in the distance, so I walked out there through the wet grass and sat on the steps, feeling totally out of sync with the universe. I stared up at the stars, which were dead things, and the trees, which were silent and ghostly, but alive, and I tried not to think about what Hannah had written in her essay.
    I didn’t cry, because I was scared that if I started, I’d never stop. I could feel everything straining inside of me,like strings stretched so tightly that maybe it wasn’t the crickets that were humming at all. Maybe it was me.
    After a while, there was a rustling in the woods. The sound of footsteps. I glanced up, wondering who else would be outside.
    I could just make out the shadow of a girl. She crept across the grass with a heavy backpack, a knit cap on her head.
    And then she stopped, staring at me.
    “Lane?” asked Sadie.

CHAPTER EIGHT
SADIE
    I HATED WHEN Nick didn’t come with me, and he hadn’t that night. He’d backed out at the last minute, claiming he was tired, so I’d gone to meet Michael myself.
    It was always unnerving to be alone in the woods after dark. I wasn’t afraid of whatever animals lurked behind the trees. Mostly, I was scared I’d get lost. That I’d wander out the wrong side, into town, shivering and terrified, and everyone in Whitley would act like I was Frankenstein’s monster.
    That didn’t happen, though. Michael was there in our meeting place just like he’d promised, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.
    “Those things will kill you,” I said, handing him the envelope.
    He crushed the cigarette under his boot and shrugged.
    “I didn’t realize you’d ridden here on your high horse,” he said.
    “His name is Applesauce, and he’s a palomino.” Imotioned toward the bags. “This everything?”
    “Sure is,” Michael said, counting out the money. He put on a tough act, like he was some thug drug dealer, instead of a Starbucks barista. “What happened to your bodyguard?”
    “He’s taking a sick