One Minute Till Tomorrow

Chapter Twelve

Monday, a week later, I grew tired of watching Caleb. He was always mad or sad or pissed off or ready to jump off. He barely ate. He barely made it to school on time. Hell, Caleb barely made it out of bed in the mornings.

But he always wrote in his notebook. He always told me what I saw that day. Ari tried to get him to talk when she got home but he barely said anything. He refused to talk to his dad or even acknowledge him.

The whole thing was getting quiet sad. And depressing. But I think that’s about where Caleb is.

By Wednesday, Caleb had enough absences to get himself in detention. I sat in the desk beside him after school. He watched a storm gather in the sky outside. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted him to talk to me. But neither of those options were likely to happen. Ever.

Caleb wanted me to wake up. I want me to wake up. We all want me to wake up. It’s killing me watched Caleb. I haven’t even checked on my mom because I know she’s either sitting at home drinking or at a bar drinking. Anyway, she’s drunk by ten.

“Caleb, you may go.” The detention teacher dismissed Caleb.

He gathered his stuff and I followed him out the door. We walked to the door of the school when Caleb made a sudden turn. I paused, then followed him. He went to his locker and opened it. Papers flew out, books fell to the ground. He kicked a history book and he kicked around some papers. He looked at his locker and the papers and the books and screamed. It was short but loud.

He slammed his locked door closed and rammed into the set of lockers across the hall. I watched him from behind. I heard his sobs. His right shoulder to the locker, he slid down and turned so his back was to the lockers. Through the window at the end of the hall, lightning flashed and rain started to pour.

Caleb rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands.

I sat down beside him and put my arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Caleb. I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t look up or say anything. “I want to die, Gwen.”

“Dying sucks, Caleb. Trust me, I’m right in the middle of it.”

“It sounds so cheesy, but I don’t want to go on without you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

I held Caleb as he screamed and cried and as a storm rolled on outside. I wanted my camera. I wanted to take a picture of Caleb, sitting here with lightning in the background. I wanted to remember the time the tables turned and it was I comforting Caleb, not him comforting me.

Thursday, I didn’t follow Caleb around, I couldn’t bear it. Instead, I spent the day beside me. It was surreal. Watching as my chest rose and fell, as my heart monitor beeped. Looking at all the scars I’d be stuck with for the rest of my life.

The glass from the window shield and passenger’s window shattered and cut my face pretty well. My arm was broken and I know I had other injuries, internal injuries.

I didn’t like it. How helpless and small I looked. Caleb probably hated it more. If I even hated seeing me this way, then I have no idea how Caleb could stand it. He loved me more than anyone would ever love me.

He came to me when I was nothing but an empty shell, hopeful for a new hope. He was my new hope. He revived me. He was my fresh drink of water after walking the dessert. I don’t know how I’d go on without him.

I have to wake up. The problem is, I don’t know how. It’s not like I can ask anyone. Damn, being a “ghost” is painful. For me and Caleb.

Friday—two days after Caleb’s melt down—I went back to school. Well, not really, but you get what I mean. I followed Caleb around, class to class. At lunch, the craziest thing happened. Someone wondered where I was.