Sara by Greg Herren Page A

Glenn had.
    Maybe I had been a little harsher on him than I should have been.
    By the time Glenn picked me up Monday morning, I had pretty much come to the conclusion that the whole thing had been a dream. And maybe I’d picked up the key chain over at Laney’s and didn’t remember doing it. Hell, I couldn’t even be certain it was Noah’s in the first place.
    There was no such thing as ghosts, and so it had to have all been a dream. I just woke up in the middle of the night freaked out from the nightmare and found the key chain. My tired imagination did the rest.

    *

    â€œHey,” Glenn said as he backed out of our driveway. “Did you talk to Laney?”
    I nodded. “Yeah. She was pretty freaked out yesterday.”
    â€œI don’t know, maybe you were right, maybe I should have called her.” He gave me a weak smile as he turned onto the main road. “I don’t know. I mean, I know you think I was being an asshole about it, but you know what a dick Noah always was to me—and after I came out—”
    â€œYeah.” I didn’t know what to say.
    â€œSo I felt pretty sure Laney would know I didn’t mean it. I mean, I didn’t want him to die or anything. I don’t want anyone to die. But”—he pounded his hands on the steering wheel in anger—“people our age aren’t supposed to die. I feel like I owed it to Laney—because of how close we used to be—to be supportive and instead I just hung out with Sara all day.”
    I opened my mouth and shut it again.
    He glanced at me as he pulled into the parking lot at school. “Yeah, and that’s all the stuff you were trying to tell me yesterday, I know. You were right.”
    â€œI had a nightmare last night,” I said as he pulled into a spot and turned the car off. I fingered the key chain through my jeans. “About Noah.”
    â€œI slept like a baby.” He grinned at me. “But I’m sure a lot of kids did. Have nightmares, I mean. Do you think Laney’ll be in school today?”
    â€œI don’t know.” I got out of the car. I spotted Candy’s car parked a few rows closer to the school building.
    â€œSchool’s going to be weird today.” He made a face as we walked across the lot toward the front doors. “A kid died in my old school—they brought in grief counselors and everything.” He shook his head. “Totally stupid.”
    He was right about that—Noah’s death cast a pall over the entire student body. The whole school was weirdly quiet—people were talking in really hushed tones, when they were talking at all. As I walked down the hallway to my locker, I could hear snatches of what kids were saying to each other in whispers.
    â€œI heard he was drunk…crushed, the truck rolled right over his body…they’re going to have a closed casket, my mom said…the funeral’s going to be Wednesday afternoon, do you think they’ll excuse us from classes to go…poor Laney, I can’t imagine what she’s going through…well, you know it was just a matter of time until something like this happened after one of Linda Avery’s parties…”
    Linda Avery herself was nowhere to be seen. I looked around for Candy, but I didn’t see her anywhere either.
    I got my sociology textbook out of my locker and headed to my first class.
    They didn’t bring in grief counselors, like at Glenn’s old school, but by the end of the day I almost wished they had.
    Every one of my teachers apparently thought it was “important” for them to bring the subject up and discuss it in the class. They also felt the need to let every one of us know that they were there for us, if we needed someone to talk to about our feelings about Noah’s tragic death. Some also took the opportunity to explain to us the dangers of teenage drinking—some even used that as an intro