Free Backwards by Todd Mitchell

the door.
    “Dan Franklin!” called Mrs. Gilbert. “Get back here!”
    Dan continued walking. For once, I felt just as mute as him.
    Dan ended up staying for detention after school. Mrs. Gilbert asked him why he’d taken the sign-in sheet, but he refused to speak. Whatever existed between him and Cat, he wasn’t going to tell any teachers about it.
    “So you’re interested in D-day?” she asked, trying a different approach. She sat across from him at one of the center tables. “Is that for a project?”
    “No.”
    “Personal interest, then?”
    He shrugged.
    Mrs. Gilbert kept folding and unfolding her hands. “Do you know what courage is?” she asked.
    Doing something stupid and running like hell,
I thought, recalling the inspirational message on Dan’s calendar.
    “Courage is doing what’s right even when you know it will make your life harder,” continued Mrs. Gilbert. “It’s never easy to show courage like that, but it’s better than the alternative.”
    I drifted closer to Dan, intrigued. He lifted his head and met Mrs. Gilbert’s gaze.
    “To paraphrase Martin Luther King Jr., the moment we stop doing what we know is right is the moment our lives begin to end.” She unfolded her hands and let them flop back so her rings thumped the table. “Do you understand?”
    I thought of Dan’s body bleeding in the tub. Was there a point when he’d stopped doing what was right?
    I nodded.
    Dan nodded.
    “Good.” She folded her hands again. “So, are you ready to tell me
why
you took the sign-in sheet?”
    Dan lowered his gaze. Bits of black gunk speckled her gold rings, darkening the crevices between the tines and diamonds. “No,” he said.
    “Suit yourself,” Mrs. Gilbert replied. “Detention ends at five o’clock.”
    The only sound in the halls was the whir of the custodian’s vacuum when Dan got to leave. He took the long way home, driving past the apartment complex where Cat lived. Then he pulled over a few houses down and watched her window, like he’d done the other day. If anyone had seen him, they probably would have thought he was stalking Cat, but after the incident in the library, I saw his actions differently. He wanted to do something good, only he couldn’t figure out how.
    Teagan was watching TV and talking on the phone when Dan got home. He went straight to his room and turned on his iPod. I hoped he’d fall asleep so I could escape for a while, but he stayed restless until dinner. Then he emerged, devoured a plate of lasagna, and retreated to his room without thanking his mom for dinner.
    He got on the Internet. This time I paid attention to his searches. He looked up suicide techniques.
    It’s freaky what people will post under the guise of being helpful. Dan seemed familiar with some of the sites already, so I guess he’d been toying with the idea for a while. He found what he was searching for pretty quickly. I tried to avoid looking at the pictures, since I already knew more than I cared to about the subject.

At last, Dan brushed his teeth and called it a day. As soon as he lost consciousness, I broke free, eager to get away from him.
    I went to the Coffee Spot first, in case Cat was there. Spooner hunched in the back booth, playing with his lighter. A couple other punk kids from school occupied the bench across from him, but no Cat.
    I spotted TR hanging out at a nearby table with a family. A mom, dad, teenage daughter, and a boy around ten were all sharing two slices of pie. TR saw me and winked. With elaborate gestures, he pretended to devour a bite of peach pie on the teenager’s fork.
    “You’re here early,” I said.
    TR slid out of the booth and stood. “Waster stole a bottle of vodka from his neighbors after school. He passed out an hour ago.”
    “Oh. Sorry.”
    “Don’t be, man. It means I get a big night. I’m celebrating.” He pretended to pick up a glass and raise it.
    “Celebrating what?”
    “Today I made Waster stick his pinkie in an automatic