***
I don’t know what happened to the box of tissue or the flu medicine that I’d held in my hands. They were lost amongst the chaos with the crowd of students and teachers seeping into Mr. Nordell’s classroom, shocked and too concerned to follow protocol. When the paramedics arrived, they strapped him to a gurney and sped him to the hospital.
Classes eventually resumed once the ambulance left, though school seemed more like a holding place to maintain a sense of order. I, for one, didn’t learn anything for the rest of the day. I tuned out my teachers, who also seemed to be going through the motions. My heart beat fast in my chest as I chewed my fingernails. I felt an immense pressure growing in my chest. I watched the clock, waiting and wondering if miracles still happened.
Just before school ended, Principal Hayden called me to his office to tell me Mr. Nordell didn’t recover. He’d suffered a heart attack and was unable to be revived.
“I wanted to tell you personally,” Principal Hayden said, “because I know the two of you were close. And given the circumstances of your cousin’s death last summer…”
I stood up from my rigid position in the chair. “Thank you for telling me.” Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I bolted from his office. I dodged teachers and ignored my name. Escaping the administrative doors, I took off down the hall.
My stomach lurched when I heard the final bell suddenly ring. Students poured out of their classrooms, obstructing my path. I fought my way past them, bumping into shoulders and ignoring protests of annoyance. I thought I heard my name again but I pressed forward, refusing to look back.
A hand gripped my forearm, whipping me around and pulling me into his chest. Shane’s arms wrapped securely around me. My backpack slipped to the floor, and I cried hard and loud. His hands pressed my head against his torso, and my body shook with sobs. I felt his hands caressing my hair—heard him murmuring words in attempt to quiet my tears.
“I’m so sorry about Nordell…” Shane’s voice sounded far away.
In our embrace, my well of grief deepened, darkening with my despair. The images of Maddie that I fought to contain now rose to the surface next to Mr. Nordell’s ashen face. I couldn’t see his kind brown eyes that offered me solace and hope. Instead, my memories of Mr. Nordell were tainted with how I found him in the classroom—death staring back at me.
“Hey…” Shane said after a minute, pulling back so he could look at my face. I hung my head, not wanting Shane or anyone to see my swollen eyes. At the sight of me, Shane sighed and pulled me close once again for another moment. I took a deep breath to clear the weight inside my chest, but it didn’t go away. He grabbed my backpack with one hand and put his arm around my shoulders. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
The school administration formally announced Mr. Nordell’s death during a scheduled assembly the next morning. I almost didn’t hear it because Mom tried to keep me from school, fearing it would be too much for me. But I couldn’t stay at home with nothing to do. I was too afraid for the all the quiet time to myself.
When the first bell rang, teachers ushered students into the assembly hall. The room resonated with whispers, sniffles, and the sound of noses blowing through tissues. I learned that when death strikes, suddenly the deceased has friends he didn’t even know about. Maintaining composure today, I couldn’t help but scowl inside when I saw students, who had only ever referred to him as “Nerd-dell,” wiping away a tear or two in conversation. Tara was one of them.
“It’s just so horrible,” she said from beside me, dabbing at her damp cheeks. Ever since I had picked her up at the party two weeks ago, she’d been talking to me again. She also seemed to finally understand that the world was not, in fact, over just because I quit the basketball team. Mr. Nordell’s death seemed to ease this transition. Our relationship was on the mend. Today, though, bitterness infiltrated my mood.
You didn’t even know him, I wanted to interrupt. I knew it wasn’t fair to judge her, or any of the students who seemed upset, despite their shallow relationship with “the boring, old science teacher.” Mr. Nordell’s heart attack, which seemed to come out of nowhere, was a reminder of the fragility of life, warning everyone that death could happen at any time and to anyone. There was a time when even I thought of Mr. Nordell as “typical”. Yet he wasn’t typical at all—he was extraordinary. And now he was gone.
In what surely must be part of the school’s code of conduct, handouts on grief circulated the classrooms that week. School counselors wandered the halls, keeping a sharp eye for students breaking down or suffering any kind of unusual emotion that they might attribute to grief. It might have been in my head, but I was pretty sure extra sets of eyes were watching me again and waiting for another breakdown. I could almost hear the questions bouncing off the halls.
Is Allie going to totally lose it? What will she do now?
I refused to be a grief project.
“How are you doing?” Shane said to me a few days later, finding me as I exited my history class. Since my breakdown in the hallway, he had been making frequent appearances in my life again.
I stifled a sigh. His question was well intended, but one I had grown to hate since last summer. There was no simple way to answer such a loaded question. Sometimes it was hard to know whether the question was a simple greeting or a true desire to know about the weighted thoughts and feelings constantly stirring my soul. Even if it were the latter, I had no desire to discuss the answer in a school hallway. I opted for a returned greeting.
“Hi, Shane.” I released a small smile. I was glad he had been keeping our interactions casual. He seemed to finally understand that kissing me could not solve my problems or take away the root of my pain. But I liked the company, even when he often seemed uncomfortable because he didn’t know what to say. We walked together for a minute, heading towards the open quad.
Crystal stepped into our path, her arms crossed. She tossed her head to swing her angled bangs out of her eyes. “Nice to see you two back together again,” she said. She directed her attention at Shane. “Your explanation for suddenly being too busy for me makes sense now.”
“We’re not together,” I said. Even though I stood a good four inches taller than she did, the bitter confidence in her stance made me feel small. She glared at me with her maroon-painted lips jutting out.
“I don’t know what he sees in such a good girl like you,” she said, looking me up and down. “It must get pretty dull.” Her eyes gleamed. “Why do you think he hurried over to me so fast?”
“Crystal,” Shane said, taking a step forward. He put a hand on her narrow shoulder. Her lips smiled sweetly at him, though her eyes darkened. Shane’s face tightened. “You’re gonna want to keep moving.”
She let out a sickened laugh and knocked away his hand. “Oh, listen to you…” Crystal’s attention diverted to a couple of her friends hanging on the sidelines. She waved her fingers at them. “Well, when you get bored again, just let me know. I’ll be around.” She tossed her head and flounced towards her friends.
I didn’t care about Crystal, but I couldn’t help thinking about her words. In some ways, she was right. I was an emotional burden to those around me, and I didn’t have much to give in return.
“Sorry about that,” Shane said. “You ok?”
I started to walk again, and Shane followed close to my side. My voice soft, I said, “Please don’t ask me that… I never know what to say.” My shoulders slumped, and I averted my eyes.
Grabbing my hand, Shane led me to a bench. He put an arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiarity and comfort of his cologne. We sat together in silence for a minute—no questions. No words.
He was the first to speak again. “I never know what to say either… And I know you don’t want a boyfriend, but I want to be your friend, Allie…” He squeezed my hand. “I’ll be your friend.”