I grabbed a pen to answer him.
Two
I considered the words I wrote to Griffin many times before I even tried to get into bed. Even then, I couldn’t sleep for thinking about it. The tale of the miners was famous, intended to make you consider whether the needs of the many outweighed the means of the few. Most people knew the quote from Star Trek, the old movie with Spock in it. I’d watched them at night when I couldn’t sleep and imagined a world that could be like that instead of the one where I lived.
Was it better to kill the sick person and leave the air for those likely to survive, or was it never okay to play god and they should just let the cards fall as they would? If everyone died, everyone died—it wasn’t ever one person’s job to make decisions like that.
I rolled onto my stomach. Or perhaps there was a third option? I looked at what I’d written to him.
Hi GG,
Cool initials, by the way. I guess I should be feeling lucky you didn’t send me the trolley question. I hoped he’d know what that meant, but if he was leaving egalitarian questions on people’s doorsteps, I was pretty sure he did. Besides, he was valedictorian—as he must really like to tell people, since his friends teased him about it—and he was clearly very bright. He probably knew the one about the trolley smashing into five people or killing everyone on board. You must be trying to figure out who I am based on how I answer this question.
And much as I obsessed, I came up with way too many scenarios as to how you would judge me, so I can’t let myself go there in my own head. Bet you’re sorry you sent me that question now, aren’t you?
Okay, my answer is that there is a third answer. We only need three people to have enough oxygen. The leader could end her own life, thereby leaving enough air for the sick and the other two people to survive. That is the leader’s job, right? Sometimes, you have to sacrifice yourself for others. I would, therefore, say that is how I would answer it. If I were Molly, I’d end myself before I ended anyone else, because I couldn’t watch people suffocate to death.
That’s just too awful.
Hope math class is going well for you.
MG
My phone dinged, and I grabbed it to look at it. Was Mom finally telling me where she’d been? It was a number I didn’t recognize.
Just wishing you a good night’s sleep. Hope you have your ringer off so that if you’re already out, you’re not woken by this. –Rowan.
He had my number?
How did he have my number?
Not that it mattered. He was Rowan Kennedy—if he wanted my number, it was probably pretty easy for him to get it.
Texting him back was tricky. I had to play it cool. Just got in bed now. Looks like we’re both night owls. Sleep well.
I sent it before I could overthink it and saved him in my contacts.
I closed my eyes, but it was a long time before sleep came. My mother was often drugged up or drunk, but at least she was an adult in the vicinity. When I was alone, every creak I heard or noise outside was someone coming to murder me.
Someday, when I was a grownup, I would know what it was like to sleep soundly. In a big house, with an alarm system and a big dog that would tear off the faces of anyone who came near me while I rested.
And a husband who loved me so much, he’d go downstairs with a baseball bat ready to do battle with all the noises I heard.
That was someday. This was now, and right now, it kind of sucked to be alone in my trailer.
Even if it was a far better day than the one I’d anticipated.
By the time I got to school, I was doing math in my head, but not the fun math, like I did in class. It was the kind where I was trying to figure out why I didn’t have enough money to pay for my cell phone. What had I spent it on that I couldn’t remember that had eaten up the last ten dollars I needed? I sighed. Sometimes, I could be downright spacey, and I wasn’t supposed to have to do this anyway. Teenagers had adults to handle these kinds of problems, or at least they were supposed to.
Even if my mother arrived home that night, it wouldn’t be with hundreds of dollars to pay for things so that I could eat a full dinner. I knew that much.
“Hey.” Tanner caught my attention as he ran up to my car. He passed me a hot cup of coffee and smiled. “Got this for you.”
I blinked. “You did? Why? I mean, thank you.”
Oh, sweet heavenly coffee, how I loved it. I never got to have any, but I loved it. Other girls craved chocolate. For me, it was this.
“You’re welcome. You had a long night yesterday. I thought you could use it. I sure did. I wasn’t sure you drank coffee, because I never see you walking around with any, but I took a chance.”
He had no idea what he’d just done for my entire day. “I want to hug you, and I’m not a hugger. Thank you. A million thank yous.”
Maybe that was the right response, because Tanner’s whole face lit up into a grin to match my own. “I’m… You’re welcome. So you do drink it, then?”
“I hardly ever get to, because I don’t have the funds, but I love it. Thank you.”
His face fell. “Really? I…I would have gotten you better coffee. This was very basic. I could’ve done better than this.”
I touched his arm as I took a sip of the bliss he’d brought me. “No, this is perfect. Seriously. Thank you. It’s perfect.” We started walking together toward the front of the building, and something he’d said dawned on me. Maybe it was the coffee finally waking up my brain, because I remembered I’d given the ten dollars to a homeless man on the street. That was where it had gone, back at the beginning of the month. I’d thought Mom was getting paid from her job at the gas station, so I’d be okay with bills. He’d been so hungry. I was too, but he’d been worse off. It had then and still did seem like the right thing to do.
“You noticed I never have coffee?” I hoped he got the underlying question, which was me checking on the fact he’d noticed me at all.
Tanner was long, lean, and gorgeous. He looked like he could truly be on the cover of a magazine. He could sell… Well, I didn’t know what he could sell, but his cheekbones alone would make people haul out their money for products they didn’t need.
“Of course. You’re a pretty girl. I’d have to be dead not to notice you.”
My cheeks heated up. I must have been absolutely red. He grinned at me. “Well, I just made you blush. That’s sort of awesome.” He swung around to look at me as we finally entered the building. “I don’t talk to people. Not much. I can’t. Long story, but it doesn’t mean I don’t notice you. I do. I really do.” He spun around, then faced me again. Tanner seemed to have lots of energy in a really good way. It was amazing he needed coffee at all. “Which way is your class?”
I groaned. I had English first period. It was an AP class and I loved English most years, but this year, the teacher hated me. I had no idea why, but she seemed to relish torturing and embarrassing me every morning, first thing. “That way.”
My class was on this floor. I’d have to run up two stories for math, but for the moment, I was close to where I needed to go.
“Then why are you talking to me, if you don’t talk to anyone?” His words had struck me right in my gut and lodged there where I imagined they’d stay for a while. No one talked to me, but he didn’t talk to others. There was something sort of synchronous about it.