The Girls of Fall by Jessica Minyard

Author:Jessica Minyard [Jessica Minyard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Centurion Books
Published: 2021-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Bridget called me obscenely early Sunday morning, and I barely got out a bleary “Hello” before her hoarse voice cut me through.

“Something’s happened.”

ELEVEN

March 2006

It was amazing how one tragedy could fell an entire community. To be honest, JJ Warren did not have much to do with me after I started officially dating London and that news made the rounds at school. His crush faded just as quickly as it had happened. But I felt his loss keenly—after all, he was one of us.

First period was somber. Mr. Davis came over the intercom to announce the loss and inform us that grief counselors would be in the library all day if we needed to talk. I was sure this concession would be abused by some. During the daily moment of prayer, there was complete silence—a phenomenon that hadn’t occurred since we’d stopped fearing the wrath of God. The whispering came later. Speculation about what had happened.

There had been a party after the sport’s banquet. It stormed that night as well. Rafael—our Raf, Bridget’s Raf—was in the passenger seat and walked away with only a scratch. JJ was killed on impact when his car flipped into the ravine. I refused to comment even though everyone knew I had the story first-hand from Bridget.

Each class was the same—quiet but buzzing, solemn eyes, muted laughs, leave if you need to. I ran into Emma in the hallway between third and fourth periods. She was hysterical, hair disheveled, eyes puffy, mascara tracks on her cheeks. I grabbed her and squeezed her as tight as I could, trying to relay comfort through my arms since I had no words for it. She mumbled gibberish into my shoulder.

The bell rang, and still, I held her until she nodded and wiped her face.

My fourth period was Art, which was the saving grace of my day. I was on track to take the Advanced Placement course next year—and so was JJ. Mrs. Pearson already had us brainstorming and sketching for our portfolios.

I arrived late and took my seat, but nobody blinked. Mrs. Pearson was joined at the whiteboard by a slim man in a gray suit. One of the grief counselors, I assumed. He started talking about our loss, the mourning process, what we must be feeling. I zoned out, gaze drifting to JJ’s empty seat, two tables over. The kids who used to sit next to him, John Sperry and Courtney Ellis, had scooted their chairs as far from his as possible while remaining at the same table. Courtney kept eyeing the empty chair as if it were a tangible thing that would reach out and bite her. Or maybe it was a black hole, a desolate expanse of space that would suck them in and destroy their own lives.

The counselor pulled me back when he asked us to get out a blank sheet of paper. I flipped to an empty page in my sketchbook.

“Now, this is a common exercise we use to deal with grief, especially with students who are not sure how to categorize their emotions.

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