Keep Holding On (20 page)

“Nice essay,” Simon compliments me.

“Thanks.”

Simon rolls his chair over to my desk. “No, I mean … this is really good.”

When I joined lit mag, I told Simon that I wasn’t going to write anything for it. But Ali inspired me. This essay for lit mag is my way of helping people understand why some kids commit suicide.

“Mr. Gilford is picking three of our writers to read their pieces to some English classes,” he says. “I’m going to recommend you.”

“What?”

“As much as I hate to admit it, not everyone reads the
Spectrum
. This would be a way for you to get your message out. What do you think?”

“I guess that would be cool.”

“Dude.” Simon springs out of his chair. The chair zings across the room. “We need to think bigger. Do you know how many kids out there are tortured every day? And we only hear about a fraction of the suicide cases.”

A breeze blows in through the big window. They let you open
the windows all the way down here on the first floor. The upstairs windows only open a crack. I guess they’re afraid that if those windows opened any higher, we’d be jumping out of them.

I go over to the window and open it some more. The breeze is soft. It smells like trees mixed with something sweet. The weather has been amazing all week. School totally has that end-of-year vibe. I take a deep breath. Summer is in the air. Breathing is easier.

“What are you doing this summer?” Simon asks.

“Working. If I can find a job. I seriously need to save for college.”

“Want to start a zine?”

“What kind of zine?”

“The kind that will reach out and bring people together.”

“Uh, yeah, I think I could make some time for that.”

“Should it be online or in print?”

“Definitely online. We’ll reach way more people that way. And we could get contributors from all over the world!”

“What if we did both?” Simon suggests. “We could focus mainly on the website, but also print a few hundred copies.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Not really. Zines were all physical cut-and-paste back in the day. We could use the same technique to make ours authentic and then just scan the pages. That way, we could still keep it old-school.”

We frantically begin planning our zine. We want it to help anyone who feels alone by connecting people from all over. If we can get the first issue ready by the time school starts, we can even distribute some paper copies here as an underground thing.

Then it hits me. “Okay, thinking even bigger … what if we distribute them outside of school? Even outside of town? That would spark more interest in the website.”

“I like it.”

“We could ask around in the city and see if anyone would stock it. Like in bookstores and coffeehouses and stuff. And we’ll put our website right on the cover so people know where to go.”

“You. Rule.” Simon sticks his fist out for a pound. I give him an exploding pound with sound effects.

This summer is going to rock. I’ll find a job. I’ll work on the zine with Simon. And maybe I can find a way to start making things better now instead of waiting until later.

Part of being done means that I have to say the things I’ve been too afraid to say. Even though I am beyond nervous, I’m waiting for Julian at his locker. I told Sherae I was ready to talk to him after getting charged up in lit mag. She immediately insisted that I come over tomorrow instead.

When Julian comes down the hall, I almost faint from emotional overload. I seriously doubt he’ll want to hear what I need to say. He’ll probably just keep ignoring me the way he has ever since he found out about Matt. But I have to try.

He does not look happy to see me.

“Hey.” I move aside so he can open his locker. “I’m … I totally understand if you don’t want to talk to me. But can we go somewhere? I have some things I need to tell you.”

Julian is busy packing his bag. My bag is already packed. I ran to my locker right after precalc so I could get everything I needed and be ready to go in case Julian agrees to leave with me. Which is still highly doubtful.

“Like what kind of things?” he says.

“Like … how I’m really, really sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I hate that I did. But there are reasons why and … I can’t tell you everything, but I want to tell you most of it.”

Julian shuts his locker. He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he says.

We walk through the emptying halls in silence.

Out in the student parking lot, we get in Julian’s white Trans Am. The only reason I know it’s a Trans Am is because I heard Julian talking about it with his friends once. It’s this rare vintage find his dad bought from a collector.

No one says anything.

“Are … can we go somewhere?” I say.

“Let’s talk here.”

“Okay.” Cars are pulling out all around us. People are looking in at us as they walk by. Simon passes by on my side and makes a discreet power fist. I try to hide my smile.

“What’s so funny?” Julian asks.

“Nothing. Simon Bruckner was … I’m really sorry, Julian. If I could take back what I said to you, I would.”

“Which part?”

“All the bad parts. Like when I said I couldn’t be with you. Because …” I take a deep breath. “I really want to be with you.
It wasn’t just because of Matt. There are some things in my life that I’m embarrassed about and I thought if you found out about them, you wouldn’t like me anymore. And the only way I could think to hide them from you was to push you away. But I’m ready to take a chance.”

“What are you embarrassed about?”

“So many things. Like how my family isn’t exactly as rich as everyone else’s around here.”

“You thought I wouldn’t like you because of that?”

I nod.

“Do you really think I’m that shallow?”

“What? No! You’re not shallow at all. It’s just … we come from two different worlds. I don’t fit in here. You do, but I’m …”

“You’re not like everyone else.”

“Exactly.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that’s what I love about you?”

Wait. Did Julian Porter actually use the words
I
,
love
, and
you
in the same sentence?

“It is?” I ask.

Julian reaches out to hold my hand. “It totally is.”

We sit there for a minute, just holding hands and staring at each other. Julian leans a little toward me.

Someone pounds on the hood. “Get a room!” they shout.

That cracks me up. No one’s ever told me to get a room before.

Julian sits up straight, pulls his hand away, and stares out the windshield.

“I need some time,” he says.

“Oh. Okay.”

Of course he needs time. I get that. I just hope he still wants to be with me.

Love is never guaranteed. Love is a risk we take because we hope it will make us happy. And Julian Porter is definitely worth the risk.

Last night I
had a dream that there was this enormous rainbow. The colors were brighter than any colors I’d ever seen before. The rainbow began outside my front door. I stood where it started and made a wish.

I know what this one means.

Simon must have been really persuasive with Mr. Gilford. He picked three writers to read their
Spectrum
pieces to some English classes: me, Darby, and a senior. It’s weird to be calling myself a writer. But I guess that’s what I am. I actually like the whole writing thing now. I’m even thinking about how I could use writing as my career.

For the longest time, I thought teaching would be the best way to directly impact kids’ lives. Now I’m realizing that there are way more possibilities. It’s wild how unexpected experiences can shape your life in ways you never saw coming. I was just trying to get out of lunch and now look.

The first class we visit seems relieved to get a diversion from the teacher. None of us wanted to read first, so we rock-paper-scissored for it. I have to go second. As Darby reads, I try to calm down. People in the front row can probably see my paper trembling.

I try not to look at anyone while I wait for my turn. But then I see Tommy, fellow solitary cafeteria survivor. He sees me see him. We both look away quickly, just like we used to when our eyes accidentally met at lunch.

I remember why I’m doing this. My paper stops trembling.

When it’s my turn to read, it’s like I’m talking right to Tommy. But I don’t want to draw attention to him or anything. So I keep my eyes on my paper. The piece I wrote is about how we all affect the people around us, whether or not we realize it. It’s about how everything is connected. And how each one of us can influence the fate of others by our own actions.

I take a deep breath before reading the last part.

“Are you the person you wanted to be? Or are you someone you don’t recognize anymore?”

I sneak a look at Tommy after I’m done.

He’s smiling right at me.

“I heard you killed it!” Simon reports when I get to lit mag.

“Don’t believe the hype.” I collapse on my chair. Reading something that intense is emotionally draining. I’ve already read to three classes. We have two more to go.

“You rocked.” Simon rolls over to me in his wheely chair. “I’m proud of you.”

“Aw.”

“This summer is going to be awesome.”

“I know.” I seriously cannot wait. Ever since we started planning our zine, I’ve been obsessing over it.

“Dude, I totally forgot about lunch!” Simon springs up. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Since when do we have a choice?”

“No, I mean … just so I can figure out what to get.”

“I thought you said you always get extra because you can never decide.”

“Oh, right.” Simon smoothes his skinny mint-green tie. “Totally.”

“That’s not why you buy extra lunch, is it?”

Simon keeps smoothing his tie. “Not really,” he admits.

I’ve had a feeling for a while that Simon made up the whole I-always-get-extra-lunch story. When other people are working in here with us, they usually bring their own lunch.

“Why do you buy me lunch?” I ask.

“Well. I know you’ve been giving up your lunch period to work here. Everyone’s hungry by lunch, right?”

“But—”

“No buts. Be right back.”

I thought I was hiding the worst parts of my life, but some things are just impossible to hide. Simon’s probably heard my stomach growling in class. And I’m sure he’s heard how Warner and those guys make fun of me. He just doesn’t want to embarrass me by admitting he knows all that. Which means before I even realized it, Simon became one more person I could trust.