she says. I don’t go to school on Monday. I’m feeling a lot better after Jared’s healing, but I’ve still got a broken nose, two black eyes and an ironclad reason to stay in bed. So I take it. My phone is still pinned in the wreckage of Henna’s car, so Mel calls me at home with the info she gathers: Jared’s not in school either, maybe still recuperating from the healing and/or still trying to sneak into Henna’s hospital room, which of course is where Henna still is. “And don’t freak out,” Mel says. “Another indie kid is dead. Kerouac Buchanan. That’s whose dad we saw in the ER.” “Shit,” I say. “Kerouac was in my American Lit class.” “We’re definitely into another wave of something. I hope it’s not as bad as last time.” “You be careful.” “I don’t think careful has much to do with it. You’re the most careful person I know and you were nearly killed by a deer.” “I’m not the most careful–” “Dad still home?” “Nah, he sneaked off to work about eight.”
What do You think about The Rest Of Us Just Live Here?
