Free Beyond Vica by T. C. Booth

be nice, since blue is Sam’s favorite color.”
    â€œHow does she know it’s Sam’s favorite color?” I snap.
    Brody’s eyebrows narrow, then he shrugs. “Sam probably told her.”
    I snicker. “Yeah, right. She doesn’t even talk to Sam.”
    â€œWhat’s your problem, Gabby? Anytime somebody asks about Sam or wants to do something nice, you get a frickin’ attitude.” His eyes penetrate mine, like he’s searching inside me, trying to figure me out.
    I feel anger rise up in me. “Whatever! Rachel and her minions don’t care about him. They just want to look good by pretending they do.”
    â€œYou don’t even know what you’re talking about. Rachel and Sam have English together. They’re peer-revision partners for writing. They’ve talked a lot this year.”
    I didn’t know that, and it bothers me that Brody did. “Well, I didn’t know your little girlfriend was so close to Sam. Excuse me!” The hurt look on Brody’s face makes me immediately regret my words.
    â€œHow can you say she’s my girlfriend? I thought…” I don’t let him finish.
    â€œI’m sorry, Brody,” I say, fighting back tears.
    â€œWe all get that you and Sam are close. We all respect that, but you’re not the only one who’s allowed to care about him. I’ve seen you push people away from him and was glad you didn’t do that to me, but now…” He shakes his head, not finishing his sentence.
    There’s no fighting the tears. They’re streaking down my face. I wipe them with the back of my hand. “Brody, I…” I don’t even know what to say. What do you say when someone has hit you right between the eyes with the truth about yourself?
    â€œI’ll talk to you later. I need to go.” He heads to his Jeep.
    â€œBrody, wait!” I yell after him but he doesn’t even turn around. I watch, helpless to stop him pulling out of the drive.

Chapter Sixteen
    I hadn’t heard from Brody the rest of Saturday or yet today. I sent him a text when I got up this morning telling him that I was sorry and asked if we could talk, but he hasn’t replied.
    I don’t even know if he’s still planning on picking me up for school in the morning. I send him one more text before turning my light out on the nightstand. I bury myself under the covers, listening for my phone, but a return text never arrives. I finally doze off.
    â€œGabby, I gotta go now. I’ll see you soon.” Sam’s voice comes from behind me in his backyard.
    I turn around. He’s standing in front of the big oak we climbed as kids. The oak stands proud against the clear, starlit sky. Sam’s curly brown hair is back. The dark circles under his chestnut eyes are gone. His smile shows teeth as white as snow.
    â€œI’m not ready for you to go. Please don’t leave,” I plead and try to cross the yard. With each step I take, the farther away he gets.
    â€œI love you, Gabby.” He waves.
    â€œI love you, too. Wait! Don’t go,” I cry.
    My eyes fly open. I sit up in bed. My room is dark. I hear the thud of my heart. I know he’s gone. I feel it. I pull my knees to my chest and sob. I hear Mom’s whispers outside my room. Light seeps into my room when she opens the door. She looks surprised to see me awake. I say it before she has a chance: “He’s gone.”
    She nods painfully and rushes to my bed. She crawls into bed with me and stretches out. I lie in her arms and cry. She strokes my hair until I cry myself asleep.
    ****
    The creak of the porch swing plays in my ears. I watch the sun peek above the landscape and listen to the birds announce the arrival of a new day. The first day on Earth without Sam.
    The world should just stop and mourn. I want to shout at the birds, “How can you sing when someone so special has just died?” Or yell at