“That sucks,” I say.
“A lot,” Nash says.
Rain ricochets off the windshield, beating down heavier than the quiet drizzle that has accompanied the first part of our drive home. I focus my eyes forward, watching the windshield wipers crank up in speed, trying to imagine what the hell will come out of Nash’s mouth next.
Online, Kels and Nash are going to New York. We’ve always acted like it was never even a question. But it’s so much more complicated than getting in or not. Especially if his parents are seriously not letting him leave Connecticut.
“Yesterday, my mom asked me what I thought about getting my degree online. She tried to argue the economics of it, but she’s so transparent. I nodded along and told her I’d consider it, but seriously? Just because Nick left home and died doesn’t mean I’m going to.”
Nick? Nash’s words don’t compute. Am I forgetting something? This seems like a major thing to forget. My brain runs through every story Nash has ever told Kels or Halle—until it hits me like a punch in the stomach.
Neither of us knows who Nick is.
And now Nash is driving too fast and it’s downpouring.
“Nash,” I say.
He’s never told Kels about anyone named Nick. He told me he’s an only child. Or maybe I assumed. I don’t know. I do know I’m the last person in the entire world who should be in this car with Nash right now. Where is Molly or Autumn or Sawyer or literally anybody else?
“Nash, slow down.”
We hit a giant puddle and the car hydroplanes. Headlights blind my vision, so I cover my face with my hands and scream. Nash regains control of the car and I’m suddenly having an out- of-body experience, because I’m literally screaming at him to pull over, to pull over right now. He pulls into the parking lot of the Middleton Public Library, the first place we met, of course.
Nash presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
He’s crying. Then I’m crying.
We’re a hot mess.
And I can’t help but think if we had just hydroplaned into a tree and this was the end, Nash would never know I’m, well, me.
“Nash,” I start.
“I don’t know why I said that,” Nash says.
“Nick?” I ask, thinking back to Rosh Hashanah and our moment on the swings. Nash saying, It sucks so bad, losing the people who are supposed to still be here.
My insides clench before Nash even speaks, and for the first time, I really hate that I haven’t told him I’m me. I’ve been collecting Nash stories that are mine, Halle’s. Things about him Kels never could know—the scar on his hand, his goofiness in front of a camera, his smirk whenever I say something that surprises him, his Bruno Mars dancing.
I don’t know if I’m ready for this story.
“My brother,” Nash says. “He was so excited that my parents were letting him go to soccer camp, right? He was twelve, finally old enough to attend a whole week of sleepovers and soccer with his friends. He couldn’t stop bragging about it. I was eight—too young to go. Also, I hate soccer.”
It takes every fiber of restraint in my body not to say, I know.
“He had a collision with another kid during a scrimmage. Bonked heads. Everyone thought he was fine. He was fine. Kids hit their heads all the time. Except it turns out Nick had a tiny bomb in his brain and that set it off. He never came home.”
I close my eyes. Breathe.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
Nash shrugs. “It’s just bad luck. But Mom and Dad—they blame themselves every day. There are zero symptoms of a sitting brain aneurism, but it doesn’t matter. They think they should’ve known. They shouldn’t have let him go. It’s bullshit, but they believe it and now I’m the only kid they’ve got left.”
“That’s not fair,” I say.
“The worst part, though? I barely remember him. Like, at all.”
“You were little,” I say.
Nash shrugs again. He leans back against the seat and closes his eyes. The rain isn’t letting up. If anything, it’s getting worse. “It’s what my comic’s about. REX? It helps me to process things, I guess. Figure out what memories are mine or stories I’ve been told. I don’t know.”
I can’t stop the tears that continue to stream down my cheeks. When Nash says it straight like that, it’s so obvious that REX is personal. I—I thought it was just art. Fiction. I’m an idiot. Art is never just art.
“It doesn’t get easier,” Nash says. “People will say it does. They’re wrong.”
I wipe my cheeks. “I know.”
I think if I’m going to tell Nash the truth, I’d better do it now. This is probably as close to the point of no return as it’s going to get. Maybe past it. He told me, Halle, about Nick. If I can’t tell him about a blog, if I can’t trust him after that, I don’t deserve him.
I reach for his hand resting over the gearshift and cover it with mine. He doesn’t flinch away and I can do this I can tell him. But then he looks at me with his bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks and it hits me all at once—I can’t. He just trusted me with something major, how can I tell him he didn’t know who he was telling it to?
It’d be selfish to overtake Nash’s emotional moment with my own drama.
Except, now I’m not sure what to say.
What would Kels say if the screen were between us? Why didn’t Nash tell her?
“I’m sorry,” Nash says. “That was so stupid—driving that fast.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “We’re okay.”
“I’m applying anyways,” he says. “To NYU. I need to know if I can get in.”
“You will,” I say.
It’s late, way past curfew, but we stay put until the rain quiets into a soft pitter-patter.
Nash turns the car back on. “Thank you. I don’t talk about Nick enough. But it felt okay, talking about him with you.”
“Grief is weird,” I say. “I get it.”
“I know,” Nash says.
Nash drives us home slow and silent.
November 21
Kels @OneTruePastry 3hr
Welcome to #ReadWithKels! This month, we’re rereading FIREFLIES & YOU by @AlannaLaForest because FILM
ANTICIPATION!!!
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Kels @OneTruePastry 3hr
If you’re reading along, introduce yourself! Name, favorite genre & link your blog if you have one! #ReadWithKels
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Kels @OneTruePastry 3hr
“Summertime is for Mama’s blueberry pies and fireflies” GIVE ME A MORE ICONIC FIRST LINE, I DARE YOU.
#ReadWithKels
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Kels @OneTruePastry 3hr
JONAH. Grateful every day that I now can picture him as Elijah Rhodes. A++ casting, imo #ReadWithKels
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Kels @OneTruePastry 3hr
Where is the Daisy to my Annalee? #friendshipgoals
#ReadWithKels
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Kels @OneTruePastry 3hr
“Sometimes, I wonder what’s beyond the bayou. Sometimes, I believe that one day I’ll find out.” #ReadWithKels
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Kels @OneTruePastry 2hr
Thanks for another excellent #ReadWithKels!! We’ll be back next week for ch. 3-4. Same place, same time, same book <3