WAKE ME UP

CHAPTER 5

They're predicting rain today, but at the moment, the skies are clear. Graduation doesn't feel all that significant to me – the whole ceremony of it, I mean – but even I would be bummed if it rained and we had to cram into the gymnasium instead of hanging out on the football field.

There's a commotion when I get to the field. I'm a bit late, but things don't start for over an hour, so I'm fine. I look around for my friends. Aimee spots me first and yells my name. She rushes over, grabs my hand, and drags me back to their scrum.

"Oh. My. God," they all say at the same time, sounding like a Greek Chorus.

It's hard at first to tell what they're saying, but it finally clicks in my brain. Someone has died. Actually, two people have died.

"It's a bad omen, isn't it?" Kira says. And no one argues with her.

We're supposed to feel hopeful today, but instead of inspirational speeches and tossed caps, we're getting a reality check of a sucker punch. Two of our teachers have died in their sleep. They just didn't wake, and no one knows why. One of them was a bit old – Mr. Kasabian – although not senior citizen-old. But Ms. Diaz was probably barely thirty.

It didn't end up raining after all, and the ceremony went on as planned, but no one's heart was in it. They mentioned the two teachers right off the bat and asked for two minutes of silence, but then everything else plodded on as rehearsed. I felt bad for Tucker McKenzie. We voted him student speaker because he's popular and hilarious, but his joked-filled speech about foreplay and intercourse as indicators of happiness and success in post-high school life bombed. It was actually kinda funny. Surprisingly insightful, too. Or it would've been on any other day.

After the ceremony, I spot my mother in the bleachers. She's almost at the top, and she's talking to someone, real animated-like. It's Ben's parents, which surprises me. They all seem friendly. I didn't know they even knew each other, but then I realize they probably met after the accident when I was in the hospital.

I'm watching them talk as I walk off the field, so I'm not paying attention, and I suddenly smack into someone. Our collision is pretty hard, and I let out a startled laugh.

It's Ben. I laugh again. I'm shot with nervous energy.

"Hey."

"Hey."

I guess our worlds have collided. At least in passing. It's the first physical contact we've had since the day the Escalade slammed through the guardrail at Castle's Turn.

Things are awkward. I keep expecting Ben to walk away, but he doesn't.

"I hear you're going to USF to play football," I manage to get out.

He nods. For a moment, I wonder if that's all he's gonna do. But then he glances off, brushes his hand through his hair, and swings his eyes back: "What about you?"

"I'm taking a gap year to figure things out."

"Cool."

We stand there in silence for a moment. It's weird. We've shared so much – we cared so much for each other – we even said we loved each other, but he's looking at me like he's not even sure he recognizes me.

"It's me, Tiana."

I'm surprised I say this out loud. I'm not trying to be snarking; I'm not. It's like I'm trying to jar his memory or something.

"I know."

He smiles. It's that easy smile he's always had. I smile back, relieved.

"I like your hair. It's blue."

I laugh again.

"Yeah, I know. I dyed it that way."

It makes me happy that he still likes my hair.

"Maybe I should get you to dye mine."

I can't believe he says this. He said this more than once when we were together, and we planned to do it, we just didn't get the chance before the accident.

"Yeah, I could definitely do that if you want." I'm trying to sound casual.

We both let it hang there for a moment. But then Ben shrugs: "I probably shouldn't."

We're still looking at each other when the light seems to fade from his eyes. I don't know where he went. I'm not even sure it's about me – now that I'm seeing it up close. But it's something.

I don't want things to end, so I keep talking. Anything that pops into my head. Stuff about the ceremony and Tucker McKenzie's speech and the strange tragedy of Mr. Kasabian and Ms. Diaz. I even start talking about the accident and how our parents got what they wished for, and who knows, maybe they even messed with the car brakes so that all of this would happen and we'd break up because they had decided that neither one of us was good enough for the other.

Ben isn't saying anything back anymore. But he still isn't walking away, either. I swear I can still see a hint of something special between us buried deep. A spark still flickering, trying to catch fire. It's muted, for sure – but it's there. Or maybe I'm just seeing what I desperately want to see.

Maybe Ben's memory got scrubbed in the accident. I lost my memory of us in the accident; maybe he lost his memory of us before the accident. It's like he's been drained. Maybe it's just time and injury – and a bit of blame or shame mixed in, which he shouldn't feel. I want to tell him all this, but I don't. I somehow can't. Instead, I keep babbling on about nothing important. Even though it's painful – even though it's nothing like it used to be, and I know when this moment is over I'm only going to feel worse than I did before.

But there's something else I know, something I'm almost certain of. This is probably the last time Ben and I will ever talk to each other. It hurts my heart even thinking about that.

"Sorry, I should run," he finally interrupts. "My parents are waiting."

It's true; his parents are at the fence now, watching us talk. I wish Ben well, and he walks away. He reaches his parents. His mother is still looking in my direction, and she gives a small wave. It's odd. I don't trust it, but I wave back.

You know before, when I said Ben and I never had a conversation after he got back from Italy? I lied. We talked once. It was the first day of school, and I walked right up to him and asked him what had happened. Why he hadn't told me he was spending the summer with his cousin in Italy. Why he never called or texted me – or answered any of my calls or texts. I poured out all my hurt and confusion. I told him I loved him. I told him I would always love him. And I begged him to love me back. But he didn't answer. He didn't say anything. Not a single word. He just looked at me... dazed. And a little annoyed, maybe. I don't know. He was impossible to read. It was the most horrifying moment of my life.