All the Bright Places

partner and the guy who saved your life, I should know what happened the
night of the accident.”
Leroy wobbles and Finch reaches out and steadies the bike and me. The
electric currents start shooting through me, just like before, and there goes my
balance again. We ride for a minute with his hand on the back of the seat. I
keep my eyes open for Amanda or Suze because I know exactly how this will
look.
“So what happened?” I hate the way he brings up the accident just like that,
like it’s okay to talk about. “I’ll tell you how I got my scar if you tell me
about that night.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I like you. Not in a romantic, let’s-get-it-on way, but as a fellow
student of U.S. geography. And because it might help you to talk about it.”
“You first.”
77

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“I was playing this show over in Chicago with these guys I met at a bar.
They were like, ‘Hey, man, our guitar player just walked out, and you look
like you know your way around a stage.’ I got up there, no clue what I was
doing, what they were doing, but we threw it down. I mean, threw. It. Down. I
was hotter than Hendrix—they knew it, and the original guitar player knew it.
So the sonuvabitch climbed up after me and cut me open with his guitar
pick.”
“Did that really happen?” The school’s in sight. Kids are getting out of
their cars and hanging around on the lawn.
“There may have also been a girl involved.” I can’t tell by the look on his
face if he’s bullshitting me or not, but I’m pretty sure he is. “Your turn.”
“Only after you tell me what really happened.” I take off and fly toward the
parking lot and the bike rack. When I come to a stop, Finch is right behind
me, laughing his head off. In my pocket, my phone is buzzing and buzzing. I
pull it out and there are five texts from Suze, all with the same message: