In memory of Nicole Lewanski

Coherence
. It was
about parallel universes, and I just know he’d love it. That’s the thing; he’s the
only person I know who would appreciate it the same way I do. And I wish I
could watch it with him and talk to him about it. Why is that so important to
me? I don’t get it. I didn’t even think about all this before I knew him.”
“It’s human nature, I suppose. To have another person validate your own
unique view of the world.”
“I can’t even talk about it, which makes me think about it more.”
Ida nodded. “Things tend to grow bigger in your mind if you let them sit
there. It’s always better to get it off your chest. That’s why I’m here.”
We were quiet for a few minutes.
“My friend Candela just quit school.”
“Really? In her final term?”
“Yeah. It almost feels like she’s on this self-destructive path. I think Ana’s death
has been really difficult on her.”
I told Ida about the time Rad and I went to the cemetery and found Candela’s
picture in Ana’s locket.
“I don’t know exactly what their relationship was, but it obviously went
deeper than I thought. Whenever I try to talk to Candela about it, she clams up.
And then just like that, she switches to her old happy-go-lucky self, and I think
I’m just imagining it all. It makes me uneasy. I’m worried sick about her, but I

---

feel so helpless.”
“I know the feeling, sweetheart. But it’s up to Candela to sort her own life out.
All you can do is be a friend to her. Keep a line of communication open.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “It feels almost like she’s a different person now. She
moved away from home a few weeks ago, and she’s hanging out with a weird
crowd. I met them at her housewarming, and I didn’t feel comfortable around
them.” I shrugged. “But maybe it’s just me.”
“It’s good to trust your instincts; they’re usually right.” Ida reached for a lighter
and finally sparked up her cigarette. She took a long drag and looked at me.
“How about your mother?”
“She’s driving me insane. I’ve stopped seeing Rad, but she’s still not happy. I
don’t know what the hell she wants from me.”
“I see,” she said and let me continue.
“She’s just so—I don’t know . . . miserable. I can’t seem to do anything right.
There’s always a problem. It’s like walking on eggshells. When it’s just Dad and
me, things are easy. I just want her to not be so crazy all the time.”
“Have you spoken to her about how you feel?”
“I’ve tried, but there’s no point. It’s like a monologue with her. Lucy talks to
her mother all the time. It’s a two-way street with them. They’re, like, best of
friends. I don’t know why mine has to be so difficult.”
“Relationships are complex things. On the surface it should be simple. But it’s
like an onion. So many layers there. The mother-daughter relationship seems to
be a particularly tough one. But they tend to work themselves out as you get
older.”
“I don’t know,” I said, unconvinced. “It seems to get progressively worse
every year.”
She gave me a sympathetic look. “Is the rubber band still working?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty much a requirement for me now. I carry spares with me
too.”
“That’s good to hear, honey. I think you’re coping remarkably well,
considering what you’re up against. It would be a tough time for anyone, even
under ordinary circumstances.”
“I suppose,” I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see my hour was up.
“It goes by quickly, doesn’t it?” She stubbed out her cigarette. “Well, you take
care, honey.”
I picked myself up from the chair. “I will.”
“Just take it one step at a time, okay? Don’t beat yourself up so much.”

---

I nodded.
“Good girl. I’ll see you next week.”

---

Seven
T
HE
BELL
SOUNDED
, signaling the end of sixth period. I breathed a sigh of relief
and began packing up my desk. Duck, who was sitting next to me, stood up and
slung his bag over his shoulders.
“Audrey,” my English teacher, Mr. Sadowski, called to me across the chatter in
the classroom.
I looked up. “Yeah?”
“Can you come here a minute?”
“Sure,” I said, shoving the rest of my books into my bag.
“I’ll meet you at the front gate?” said Duck.
“Actually, I have to stay back today to do some work on the school mag. But
I’ll drop by your place afterward.”
“Okay, want me to pick you up?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll take the bus.”
I swung my school bag onto my shoulder and, doing my best to avoid my
jostling classmates, made my way to the front where Mr. Sadowski was waiting.
“What’s up, Mr. Sadowski?”
“I’ve finished reading some of the recent pieces you’ve written for the school
magazine. Great work, really great. You’ve always been a strong writer, but it’s
gone up a notch in the past couple of months. Well done.”
I smiled, pleased with the compliment.
“But I thought I should just check in with you, make sure everything is okay.”
“Of course it is. Why would you think otherwise?”
“You’ve been a little quiet in class lately, and your writing, well . . .” He gave
me a look I couldn’t quite interpret. “It’s taken something of a dark turn.”
“Oh.”
“Is there a reason for this?”
I shook my head and smiled. “No, not really.”
“No?” He looked unconvinced.
“Why do you ask?”

---

He sighed. “Since Ana’s death, the running theme in your work seems to focus
mainly on suicide, and I’ve been a little worried.”
“It’s okay. I’m seeing someone about it. Ida has been great. I’m sure you’ve
heard of her.”
“I have, and from what I know, you’re in good hands.”
“So was that all?”
He nodded. “Yes, that was all.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Sadowski. See you tomorrow.”
I 
MADE
MY
way over to the school library to meet up with Anton, who insisted
we call him Angie. He was editor of the school magazine and the most popular
kid in school, well liked by the teachers, the kids, the ladies at the school
cafeteria, and even the grumpy caretaker whom everyone steered clear of.
“Hey, Angie,” I said when I walked into our headquarters—a small study room
tucked away in the back corner of the library. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Hey, Audrey,” he said, his eyes pinned to the screen of his laptop.
I dropped my school bag down and pulled out a chair.
“What are you working on today?” I asked.
His fingers paused over the keys, and his eyes flickered up to meet mine.
“I’m working on a tribute to Ana.”
I drew in a deep breath. “Yeah?”
Angie rubbed at his chin. His fingernails were painted with bright pink polish
and finished with a smattering of rainbow glitter. Today he had rolled up the
sleeves of his white polo shirt to show off his perpetual golden tan. He wore a
tartan skirt over the school-issued gray tights, which he had neatly tucked into a
pair of Doc Martens.
“I thought we could interview some of her friends, share their stories. I know
Candela has some wild ones to tell—the two of them were as thick as thieves.”
I sat down and pulled my laptop from my bag.
“You know her boyfriend, Rad, don’t you?” he continued.
“Yeah,” I said, instantly feeling guarded. “But we’re not in touch anymore.”
“Really?” said Angie, his perfectly shaped eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“Since when?”
“It’s been a couple weeks or so,” I said with a shrug.
“Oh,” Angie shut the lid of his laptop and rested his chin in his hands. “I know
it’s none of my business, Audrey, but I heard through the grapevine that the two

---

of you had something going on.”
“What? From whom?”
“Just a few of my sources—you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t there more interesting things to talk about?”
“It happens to be the trending topic at the moment.”
“Well, it must be a slow news week.”
“Is it true that Rad looks like River Phoenix?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Kind of, yeah.”
“Is he more like Mike Waters in