Chapter 3: Cruel News, Crueler People

Mrs. Jenkins told me that when she came back from the supermarket and passed the old bridge, she saw a crowd—even the police. After asking around, she learned my mom had drowned.

The image burned in my mind: the rickety bridge over the creek, the smell of wet leaves, blue-and-red lights flashing in the dusk. My legs buckled, and I had to lean on Mrs. Jenkins’s arm just to stay standing.

My whole body shook, cold deep in my bones. It felt like it was me, not my mom, who’d been dragged under by the water.

My teeth chattered—not from the cold, but from the shock that rattled through every part of me. The world spun, my hands numb, my head buzzing with static.

I begged Mrs. Jenkins not to tell my dad about my mom yet. Then I slipped away to claim her body.

The coroner’s office was harsh and sterile, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. My mom’s hair was plastered to her face, her skin ghostly pale. I reached out, but my fingers couldn’t bear to touch her. The rock candy was still clutched tight in her hand, as if she couldn’t let go.

Her body was soaked, lips white as paper, her face drained of all color. She was still holding the bag of candy in her stiff fingers.

I stared at her hand, stiff around the cellophane bag. The sight made my throat close up. She never let herself have treats, always saving them for me. Now, she held onto it like it was the last piece of home.

I felt like throwing up, but I hadn’t eaten all day. After retching for a long time, I only spat up some sour water.

The taste burned my throat. I pressed my forehead to the cold wall, my body shaking with dry heaves, praying for this nightmare to end.

The police came for my statement, and some local reporters wanted my photo. I didn’t want them to, but I didn’t even have the strength to lift my hand to block the flash.

Their cameras went off anyway, capturing my grief for tomorrow’s paper. The officer’s voice was far away, asking questions I barely heard. All I wanted was for everyone to leave me alone, to let me mourn in peace.

I looked up at the crowd around me. Everything felt strange and absurd. I thought I saw Natalie among them, head bowed. I had no idea what she was thinking.

It was like watching my own life through foggy glass. Natalie’s hair caught the streetlight, but her face was hidden, her posture stiff with guilt—or maybe just discomfort.

I was terrified the news would reach my dad. His health was already terrible, and he had heart disease. This would break him.

The thought of him alone in that room, not knowing, made my heart race faster than any fight ever had. I sprinted home, ignoring the pain in my legs and the ringing in my ears.

I hurried back home. Just as I got to the door, I saw Marcus slowly walking out of my house.

He lingered on the porch, twirling his crutch, smirking like he owned the place. The porch light stretched his shadow long and crooked across the steps.

“Yo, finally back?” Marcus raised his eyebrows, grinning.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, voice wary.

I kept my distance, one foot still on the sidewalk, ready to bolt if he tried anything. The look in his eyes told me he was enjoying every second of my misery.

“Nothing really. Since we’re classmates—even though you got expelled—I thought I should come and offer my condolences.”

His voice dripped with fake sympathy, every word laced with poison. It made my skin crawl.

I rushed into the room and found my dad gasping for breath, clinging to the bed.

He was pale and sweating, knuckles white as he clutched the mattress. The room reeked of sweat and fear, and the only sound was my dad’s ragged breathing.

“Dad!”

I rushed to the cabinet for his medicine, but it was gone.

Drawers flew open, pill bottles scattered, but the one he needed was missing. My heart thudded in my ears.

“Your dad doesn’t look too good. As soon as I told him you got expelled, he turned like this.”

Marcus spread his hands, feigning innocence. “Oh right, one more thing. I just got a text from Natalie. Your mom’s dead. Slipped off the old bridge and the water took her. Didn’t see that coming, did you? She was still holding rock candy. Seriously, what kind of grown woman still buys rock candy? Was she stuck in second grade or something? Hahaha, did your mom piss off God or something?”

His words sliced right through me. I could barely hear over the roaring in my head. Rage and grief fought for control, leaving me shaking.