Free After by Kristin Harmel

“Because with me, you don’t have to be Kelsi Whose Mom Died. And I don’t have to be Lacey Whose Dad Died. You know?”
    Kelsi was silent for so long that I began to think she wasn’t going to respond. Then, finally, in an almost inaudible voice, she said, “Yeah. I know.”
    “Maybe we can see if Logan wants to come too,” I said. As Kelsi turned left into the school parking lot, kids were pouring out of the buildings toward the cars. The final bell must have just rung.
    “Whatever,” she said casually, like she didn’t care. But then she added, “Maybe we should ask Mindy Rodriguez, too. She’s a freshman. I heard her mom died last year.”
    “And Cody Johnson,” I said.
    Kelsi frowned. “So you want to start, like, some kind of club for kids with dead parents or something?”
    “Not really.” The plan was forming in my mind as I spoke, and I wasn’t sure if it was stupid or not. “What if it’s just us getting together and hanging out sometimes without feeling like outcasts?” I asked. “I mean, we can talk about our parents if we want to. But we don’t have to. We can feel like we did before.”
    Kelsi pulled into a parking spot, cut the ignition, and stared at her lap for a long time. Finally, she looked up at me. “Okay,” she said. “I’m in.”

chapter 8

    O nce I’d had the idea of getting us all together, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I thought about it at school. I thought about it at home. I lay in bed at night thinking about how I just might be able to help everyone who hurt the same way I did. I imagined scenarios in which the program was such a success, I would be asked to travel all around the country to talk to grown-ups about how to help kids who’d lost a parent.
    But I was getting ahead of myself. I hadn’t talked to anyone but Kelsi about it, and I hadn’t even researched how to go about setting up an informal group of teens who got together to be with other people who didn’t make them feel like outcasts. Still, I knew in my gut that it was something I had to do. I just had to figure out how.
    Jennica came over after school on Friday to do our weekend trig homework, and then my mom drove us to Jennica’s house. I’d told her we were having a sleepover, which wasn’t exactly a lie, since I really was sleeping over at Jennica’s place. But we were also going to a party at Brooke Newell’s house, and I knew my mom would probably say no if I asked her. Ever since the accident, she’d been completely freaked out about anything that involved teenagers, cars, and possibly alcohol. Not that I blamed her. But it wasn’t like we were going to drink and drive. I knew what could happen when you got in a car, even when alcohol wasn’t a factor.
    “It’ll just be me and Tanner tonight at home,” my mom said as she drove. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Tanner, who was sitting beside Jennica and gazing out the window.
    “Why?” I asked. “Where’s Logan going?”
    “Over to Will’s house to play some video game, I think,” Mom said absently. “Or maybe to watch movies. He’s having a sleepover too, like you girls.”
    Jennica and I exchanged looks. Will was Logan’s friend last year, but they hardly ever talked anymore, thanks to the fact that Logan now spent all his time with Sydney. I doubted he was spending Friday night at Will’s, but Will was the excuse he used most weekends to sneak out of the house. I hadn’t blown his cover yet, although with the way he acted toward me sometimes, it was pretty tempting.
    I wondered if Logan would be at Brooke’s party too. I’d always assumed that the Will lie was a cover for sneaking out with Sydney. But maybe my brother was going to more of these popular-crowd parties than I realized.
    My mom dropped us at Jennica’s, and after kissing me absently on the cheek, she drove away, back to the silent bubble of our house.
    “She’s really out of it, isn’t she?” Jennica said quietly.
    I sighed. “It’s