Free The Dead and Buried by Kim Harrington

straight for the open double doors of the gym.
    My eyes widened. This was more like a college fair than a “please join our club” thing. Balloons hovered above and spirit posters adorned the walls. A large booth in the center sold Woodbridge tees and sweatshirts. All the clubs’ tables lined the walls, each one staffed with one or two people. As I startedto slowly walk past a few, I noticed many had fliers and even plates of cookies and swag.
    My ambling stride had apparently looked like interest to one booth and a peppy girl called out, “Interested in the ecology club?”
    “Um, no thanks,” I mumbled and quickened my step. It wasn’t like I wasn’t interested in the ecology club. I like the environment fine. I was just so overwhelmed with all the choices and knew that I’d end up signing away all my free time to the first one that drew me in.
    I skimmed over the signs on each table, trying to see which club was right for me. I didn’t have an athletic bone in my body. My voice was a danger to glass-paned windows and I didn’t play an instrument. I was way too nonconfrontational for debate team. I sucked at art. So many of the clubs seemed geared toward kids who knew what they wanted to do with their lives. Journalism club, science, math, technology, robotics. I had no idea what kind of career I wanted.
    The noise level in the gym seemed to amplify as I brought a shaky hand to my forehead. Coming here was supposed to be a respite from scary feelings, but I suddenly felt so overwhelmed I wanted to turn around and leave.
    “Sour Patch Kid?”
    I turned and found Donovan seated behind a table, holding up a bowl of candy. I nodded eagerly and plucked a yellow one out. The sour punch interrupted my panicked thoughts and by the time I was done chewing, I already felt better. Sugar was like medicine to me.
    “You looked pretty freaked out there for a second,” Donovan said, giving his head a shake to get the hair out of his eyes.
    Normally, I’d smile and come up with some empty platitude to make the uncomfortable moment pass, but for some reason the truth leaked out of me. “Sometimes I think I’m the only one here who doesn’t have her whole life mapped out.”
    Donovan nodded knowingly. “Don’t worry. Even the most put-together kids here have moments of panic.”
    I nodded, feeling somewhat better. “How am I supposed to know what I want to do with the rest of my life? I’m seventeen.”
    He shrugged. “Who says you have to know now?”
    I raised my hands up and motioned to the chaos around us as my answer.
    “That’s what this is for,” Donovan said. “Play around with anything you’re even slightly interested in. Do a little here and a little there and eventually something will click.”
    I hadn’t even stopped to think of it that way. That people weren’t committing to anything, they were only trying stuff out. “Is that what you do?” I asked.
    “Sure. Art’s not my only thing. I also love graphic design, gaming. I might end up in software design. I’m dabbling in it all right now.”
    “So which one is this?” I gazed down at the sign-up sheet and found myself surprised. “Book club?”
    He grinned. “Like I told you. Try it all.”
    “So what book are you guys reading?”
    “We’ll vote on one at our first meeting. And if you don’tlike the book we’re reading that month, skip the month. Participate as much or as little as you want.”
    That didn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounded kind of fun. I bent over and scribbled my name and e-mail on the sheet. My pendant swung forward, getting in the way, so I tucked it under my shirt.
    “What’s that gemstone called?” Donovan asked, pointing.
    I straightened. “Technically, this one’s not a gem. It’s fossilized resin.” Stop being a dork, stop being a dork. “But, anyway, it’s called amber.”
    “Amber.” Donovan repeated. “It’s cool because it’s the same color as your eyes.”
    Heat flooded my neck. He knows