The Beginning of After by Jennifer Castle Read Free Book Online Page A

which to feel weirder about, the fact that people were talking about me or that there were rumors like this floating around. At least, I hoped they were rumors.
    I called Nana, who said, “Laurel, do you really think the police would keep information like that from us? People like to gossip. It gets them attention.”
    At lunch I asked Meg, who rolled her eyes. “Those aren’t even the most creative ones I’ve heard,” she said. “My favorite is the one about someone leaving an anony-mous note at the scene of the accident saying sorry. I mean, people should get creative writing course credit for some of these whoppers.”
    Meg looked at me, and it must have shown that I didn’t find these as funny as she did.
    “You make it sound like there are a lot,” I said.
    “Not really.” She shrugged, then looked at me again. Something shadowy flickered across her face. “Okay, yeah,” she continued, her voice serious now. “There are a lot. This is a boring town. Rumors are, like, a specialty here.”
    “But you tell people when they’re not true, right?”
    “With some of them, of course.”
    “Like what?”
    Meg frowned. “Do you really want to know?”
    Did I? I wasn’t sure, but I said yes anyway, as firmly as I could.
    Meg sighed, like she was prepping herself. “Well, I’ve heard a few people say that the reason you and David weren’t in the car that night was because you guys were, you know. Together somewhere.”
    I jerked my head back. The thought of David and me and the words together somewhere being linked in any way made me instantly nauseous.
    “Gross,” was all I could say. I tried to make it sound funny, but Meg knew better.
    “I always set them straight on that one,” she said, putting her hand on my back. “Always, Laurel. As soon as anyone brings it up.”
    So maybe that’s what some of those looks were. They thought I’d been fooling around with the Railroad Crowd’s biggest pothead while my family was burning to death.
    I felt the tears hot and sharp in the corners of my eyes, and the urge to bolt to the nearest bathroom to throw up. But that meant everyone in the cafeteria seeing me run out, and maybe someone in the bathroom hearing me puke. And that meant more gossip that I didn’t want to give them.
    So I swallowed hard and took a sip of water, and blinked until I could see again, then shrugged Meg’s hand off my back.
    On my third day back, our school principal, Mr. Duffy, called me into his office. He had a huge potbelly and a bright red face. Some students liked to mess with their little siblings and tell them he was really Santa.
    “Laurel, I didn’t get a chance to attend the funeral, so I wanted to tell you in person, privately, how very sorry I am. How are you holding up?”
    “I’m taking it day by day.” I liked saying this. It was honest, short, and seemed to satisfy people.
    “That’s all you can do. Are you . . . Do you have professional support?”
    For a second I thought he was talking about my bra.
    “You know,” he continued, “a doctor or counselor . . .”
    “There’s someone the police hooked me up with,” I said. “A crisis person.”
    “And what about David Kaufman? Have you seen him or talked to him?”
    “I saw him a few days ago.”
    “How’s his father? We haven’t been able to get in touch.”
    “I think he’s about the same.”
    It felt very strange to be providing this direct line to David’s state of affairs. Mr. Duffy nodded and pushed a piece of paper toward me.
    “I’m giving you off-campus privileges. In case you want to go home or just need a break, or to see someone. I thought it might help make things easier.”
    I looked at the paper, which was an official-looking form he’d filled out and signed. Wow. This was a really, really nice thing to do, and it would actually make things easier.
    “Thank you,” was all I said, my voice shaky.
    He put his hand lightly on my shoulder as I stood up. “You’re welcome.