All of Me

thirty six • win or lose

• • •

I can't go back in the living room yet. My phone is frozen in my hand, my fingers clutching it so tightly that there's an imprint of the power button in my palm. What am I supposed to think after that? My head's a scramble, and it only scrambles more when curiosity gets the better of Gray and he slinks out of the living room with a slice of pizza in his hand.

"Everything ok?" he asks. He offers me the slice. I shake my head. His face falls. "Oh, no. What's wrong?"

"I ... I don't know," I say. "Navya's coming over."

Confusion floods his features. "What? Why? Is she ok?"

"I don't know. She sounded upset. She said she needs to talk to me and we can't talk over the phone and I need to hear something from her," I say, my voice starting to shake as much as Navya's. "Did something happen, Gray? Are you two ok?"

"What? Yes! We're great! I just saw her this morning," he says. "She was upset?"

"She was crying."

His face falls. Gray takes on other people's emotions as though they're his own and grief flickers in his eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know! She sounded upset and it's obviously a big deal if she's driving here. She's two hours away. Her parents are gonna kill her." I lower my voice when a thought enters my head, and I hold Gray's gaze when I ask, "Is she pregnant?"

"No! Oh my God, no!" he cries, his eyebrows shooting up. "No, no. Definitely not. We're careful. Very careful," he says, suddenly looking terrified. Color drains from his cheeks. "And if she was, surely she'd call me?"

I slump against the wall, my mind skittering out of control. "Yeah. I'm gonna go crazy until she gets here."

"Maybe Rich was being an asshole," Gray offers, "or she needs a girl talk or something."

I nod, but I know it's not that. If Navya wanted a girl talk, she'd call. If Rich was being an asshole, she'd text. If something huge happened, she'd drive here crying.

I can't go back into the living room. I can't sit back on the sofa and watch a movie with Mom and Tad and act like everything's normal, and I don't want to drag them into whatever's going on, so I struggle into my coat even though I really don't want to leave the house.

Gray bites the pizza slice I rejected. "Where're you going?"

"We're going out," I say, pulling my hair out from under my collar.

"Where? Nav's on her way over."

"Just to the diner," I say. "She can meet us there. I just ... whatever's going on, I don't want to do it here."

He swallows and asks, "Why? Surely it'll be worse in the diner."

"Is this how you want your dad to meet your girlfriend?" I ask, trying not to sound mean. I don't want to be mean; I don't want to hurt Gray, but I'm struggling to know what to think right now. He slowly nods.

"Good point," he says. He grabs his coat. "I'll tell them we're going out."

• • •

I hate December. I hate the cold, the way the wind bites at my cheeks like a thousand papercuts. I hate that it gets so dark so early, that my fingers are numb in my pockets within five minutes of leaving the house. We could've driven. It would take two minutes to make it to the diner in the car, but I couldn't bring myself to get behind the wheel again so we're walking.