Love Letters & Suicide Notes

In fact, when I went to the dining hall to get lunch the next day, she was sitting at the table right next to Bryson, hanging off his arm and laughing at everything he said like nothing had ever happened in the first place. They were in their usual corner table, surrounded by Ryder Washington and two other boys. The one on Ellie’s left was tall and abnormally thin. His cheeks were gaunt, and his eyes were set in dark circles that never seemed to go away, no matter how many times I saw him. He tried to hide behind his thick, black glasses and shaggy black hair, but London Kelly always looked exhausted, possibly because he rarely ever ate enough to look alive.

Beside Ryder was Cash Irving, who had always looked to be about 26 years old, even though he was only 18. Stubble lined his jaw, and his mop of golden brown hair was stuffed under a gray beanie. Like almost everyone at the table, he was wearing a sweatshirt—like sweatshirts were their thing. They wore them almost everyday, and they were always way too big, like looking homeless was the cool thing to do. Who ever thought that there’d be cliques in a psych ward?

I headed into the serving area, made myself a sandwich at the sandwich bar, got a generous helping of french fries, a coke, and a chocolate chip cookie, and headed off toward the back corner table I usually ate at, alone. It wasn’t necessarily uncommon that people ate alone in the dining hall, but it was more common during breakfast hours when a lot of the residents weren’t awake yet. My particular table sat before one of many windows, ones that spanned the entire height of the wall, allowing a nice view of the quad, as people-watching was one of my favorite pastimes, but I wouldn’t make it to that table today. A hand shot out and grabbed me as I passed the aisle, startling me so bad that I almost dropped my tray.

When I looked behind the hand, Cal was grinning below me. “Hey-o,” he said. His mouth cracked into a grin. “Where ya headed, Mister Whisper?”

“To eat,” I said, hoping he’d let go of my arm, so I could leave. Bryson Alves sat on Cal’s left. Cal must’ve sat down while I was getting my food, since I didn’t remember seeing him at the table before.

“Well, duh,” Cal said. “Eat with us. There’s plenty of room.”

This was just great. How was I supposed to turn down an invitation to eat and then proceed to go sit at a table alone without looking like a total jerk? It soon occurred to me that I couldn’t, so I sighed and nodded. “Yeah, okay, thanks.” I reluctantly sat down at the end of the table, across from Cal and next to Ryder, and they dove right into conversation as though Cal had known them for years. Cal introduced everyone to me, and when it was my turn, I shifted to sit a little straighter.

“Uh, I’m Candace,” I said and lazily lifted my hand to wave.

“Hey,” they all said and nodded at me.

Cal made it a point to tell me all of the awesome things he’d learned about his new best friends in the short time he’d known them, like how Cash had been able to grow a beard since the fourth grade, supposedly, or how Bryson was actually a brilliant poet, or how Ryder could “really shred” on the guitar. I never quite imagined myself getting inducted into Sunnyside’s popular crowd, but I definitely never imagined that they’d actually bother talking to me, or even talking around me, since it only qualified as a conversation if I answered them.

At one point, Cal actually laughed and said, “Shut up, Candace, you talk too much!”

Most of the table laughed. Even Bryson. Cash leaned across the table, craning himself around Ellie to look at me. “So, new girl, do you play?”

“Huh?” I asked.

Ryder turned his head to me. “He means do you play an instrument.”

“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “Nah, I was more into sports.”

“What sports?” Cal asked, eagerly leaning across the table. If there wasn’t anything in the way, I was sure he’d have gotten right up in my face with that stupid grin of his.

“Soccer, mostly,” I said. “But I played lacrosse, too.”

Bryson nodded approvingly. “I can dig that.”

“Major bummer, though!” Cal sighed. “We totally wanted to go jam in the recreation building, but you can’t play—“

“I’ll come watch,” I offered with a shrug, and Cal’s face lit up like he was a lamp, and someone had just plugged him in.

“Fantastic!” He laughed loudly before reaching over to grab Bryson’s arm. “C’mon, we gotta go right now!”

“Right now?” Bryson asked.

“Right now!” Cal shot up out of his seat and rushed down the aisle, headed toward the doors.

We all took our time getting up and leaving, but by the time we got to the exit, Cal came rushing back, panting.

“Guys,” he said. “I just realized I don’t know where we’re going.”

Bryson scrubbed a hand over his face. “Come on, kid.” He patted Cal on the shoulder and led us off.