Free One Moment by Kristina McBride Page B

small kiss, he looked up. I tipped my forehead against his and stared at the dancing sky.
    I wanted the night to last forever. It killed me, knowing that each moment ticked me closer to the time we would have to part from the magic of the field. I looked at Joey, traced the dip of his nose with my eyes. And I got an idea.
    “You have to be quiet,” I said as I pulled my phone from my pocket.
    “Why?” Joey looked at me with curious eyes.
    I had already punched in the number and was listening to the third ring. “Shh.”
    “Honey, what is it? Are you okay?” My mom’s voice was heavy, and I knew that I’d woken her. I wondered if she was in bed or still on the couch with the quilt draped over her legs while late night television flickered light across the living room.
    “I’m fine, Mom,” I said with a yawn. “Just tired. Is it okay if I sleep over at Tanna’s tonight?”
    My mom caught my yawn. “That’s fine,” she said. “Just call me in the morning.”
    “Okay.” I grinned at Joey. “’Night.”
    When I closed my phone and slid it back into my pocket, Joey turned to his side, propping himself on an elbow. “You,” he said, “are trouble.”
    I laughed, the sound of my voice skipping across the empty field. “You gonna call home, too?” My heart was beating fast, in time with the rapid melody of the crickets that surrounded us. I wasn’t sure what Joey would think about what I’d just done. I knew that call had been the final step, crossing a line that meant our friendship was now something much more complicated. And I was excited to see what lay ahead. “Or do I have to spend a night in this field alone ?”
    Joey leaned forward, his lips brushing mine, lingering, his breath an intoxicating sugary mist. “You think I’d miss out on this opportunity?” Joey asked, shaking his head. “Not. On. Your. Life.”

7
    Crashing Onto Me
    I held my breath because of the smell. It was stale, and musty, and wrong.
    My feet stepped slowly, skidding every so often on the thick carpet, a deep maroon pool that sucked me under with its circular pattern, pulling me forward to the last place I ever wanted to be. The last place I ever thought I would be.
    “There she is,” someone just ahead of me whispered.
    I did not look up.
    “Do you think it’s true?” another voice asked.
    Shannon’s grasp on my hand tightened. “Ignore them.”
    “You got this,” Tanna said. I wasn’t sure if she was speaking to herself or to me.
    The dark box was just ahead, its shiny surface glinting, even in the dim lighting of the room. One glance and I squeezed my eyes so tight I saw starbursts. I wished I could squeeze so hard I’d pass out and miss this entire thing.
    The faint sound of “You and Me” by the Dave Matthews Band caught in my ears. At first, I thought I had imagined it. But then I remembered the CDs Pete, Tanna, Shannon, and I had made. I could hardly recall sitting on my front lawn as we made the playlists on Pete’s iPod, or going inside to burn the songs to disks. What I remembered most was all of us wondering why Adam had refused to join, worrying about why he was pulling away, and hoping that we would get him back.
    When I opened my eyes, I saw it again. The long box. But I saw something else, too. Joey’s profile peeking just above the side. It looked like he was sleeping.
    Those long-ago memories rushed me again. Joey in health class. Joey lying under the shooting stars. Joey—just sleeping.
    But then my eyes skittered around the room, and all illusion vanished.
    The terrible sadness that had overtaken me, the truth of Joey’s death, shadowed everyone in darkness. I looked at the crowd of varsity cheerleaders, sports lovers, drama clubbers, and overall party freaks hovering around the pocket of easels on the right side of the church, their backs facing the hundreds of pictures we’d taped to the poster boards. It felt as if each person in the room was staring directly at me. Then my eyes