Delicate ― Kevin Day

03. to jump or not to jump

[trigger warnings: suicidal ideation; mentions of past drug use, past overdose, past child abuse & neglect & past violence/fighting; allusions to child sexual assault]

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THE STARS WERE OUT IN FULL BRILLIANCE by the time Hadley made it up to the Fox Tower roof. She'd endured an excruciatingly awkward dinner of "bonding" that had consisted of Dan asking Hadley about herself, Hadley giving her absolutely nothing to work with, Allison filling in the blanks with whatever malicious rumors she'd heard, and Renee trying (and failing) to lower the rising tension between Allison and Hadley. As soon as said dinner was over, she'd booked it out of the dorms and set off on a too-long jog around campus, pretending to familiarize herself with the territory rather than just trying to clear her head and get away from people for a while.

She returned as the sun began to set below the horizon, bypassing her floor and going straight to the top to hunt down the roof access door. It took three minutes of exploring to find it, and another two to pick the lock with a pair of bobby pins from her ponytail.

Finally, she was seventy feet in the air, staring up at the meager blanket of stars that managed to shine this close to the city.

She walked herself to the very edge of the roof, looking down at the sidewalk and parking lot down below. She spotted Matt's truck, and an obnoxiously nice black car, and a pink convertible that had to be Allison's. There were a few more, but they all belonged to the Exy Foxes—according to Wymack, the Exy team was always the first to move into the athletes' dorms.

She counted her breaths, and the empty parking spots, and the light poles dotting the lot. She closed her eyes and remembered the fleeting sensation of flight, just before the anticlimactic landing two stories below.

She hadn't thought about that night in years. But one memory led to another, it seemed, and Andrew Minyard was wrapped up in more than a few.

Another five minutes, and she was no longer alone.

"Figured I'd find you up here."

Hadley didn't look back or acknowledge his arrival.

"If you're going to jump, let me get my phone out and record it," Andrew said.

Hadley sighed, taking a small step back from the ledge. She took a seat at the edge of the roof, letting her legs dangle over the side. "I'm not going to jump." She couldn't decide if that was disappointment in her voice. "What do you want?"

"I can't say hello to an old friend?" Andrew asked, sitting down next to her, far enough away from the edge that he couldn't see how far the drop was. An unsettling, unfamiliar smile was on his face, though now Hadley knew for sure it was a product of some anti-psychotic he'd been court-ordered to take (Allison truly did know just about everything about the recruits—a handy thing for learning new information, an annoying thing for keeping secrets).

"Since when are you sentimental?" Hadley asked.

"I'm not," he said. "Just surprised." A beat. "I don't like being surprised."

"I remember," she said, bringing her foot up onto the ledge. She propped her chin on her knee. "You also don't like heights."

"I don't," he agreed. "I'll never understand this death wish of yours."

Hadley shrugged. "I like the view."

Andrew snorted. "Sure."

Hadley sighed. "I didn't know you were coming to Palmetto, if you're worried about that. I only came here because it was the only school that offered me a full-ride."