Free carefully everywhere descending by L.B. Bedford

name.
    â€œThat’s right, I did.”
    â€œI have to tell you, I’m amazed. They far exceeded my expectations for West. You did great work with her, Anderson. Have you ever considered teaching? I mean this seriously. Not everyone could turn something like that around in the time you had. You’ve got a gift.”
    â€œI’m flattered, especially having that come from you, Mr. Welsh,” I say. “But I’ve… I’ve been thinking about a career as a pilot, actually.”
    He shrugs philosophically. “Hm, well. Even pilots need instructors, I suppose. Keep it in mind, won’t you?”
    I tell him I will and go to Spanish with a warm feeling all over from the praise.
    Amber invites me to her house Friday evening. She’s got a video game that plays popular songs, shows you dance moves, and then releases you into a dance-off against each other. I do slightly better than Amber, but she knows more of the songs than I do. It’s actually a lot of fun, especially when she pulls out some old feather boas from a past Halloween and we glam up a little by putting on heavy makeup and seeing who can be the most dramatic dancing lip-syncher. It makes me think of middle school sleepovers, though I’m not sure why. I never went to any.
    Later, when we’re watching the critically acclaimed feature film, Voices Heard from a Distant Room , I ask, striving for ubercasual, “So… have you ever kissed anyone?”
    Amber doesn’t laugh at me, for which I’m eternally grateful. She does blush and say, “Yes, two boys. One at my old school, and Ben Stutzman, who I dated for a very, very short period last year after I moved.”
    â€œWhat’s it like?”
    â€œI found it a little gross the first time, to be honest,” she says, making a face. “It was wet and messy. Ben wasn’t so bad. I didn’t feel like he was trying to eat my face. I dunno. I keep hoping it will be perfect when I find the right guy, but it may be something you just put up with.”
    â€œThat sounds sad,” I say. “Also, I’m skeptical. If everyone was just putting up with it, it wouldn’t be such a draw in romantic movies. Or any movie,” I add as the artistically made-up couple on-screen, who were torn apart by war and circumstances, embrace and kiss passionately. I gesture to them. “Look at that. They don’t seem to be just enduring.”
    â€œNo,” Amber agrees. “And that’s why I’ve got my fingers crossed I just had two duds. Keep me posted on how your experience goes,” she finishes mischievously. She mouths, With Scarlett .
    I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”
    But her teasing actually cheers me up a little.
    The momentary boost crashes back down when Sam, who improved a little later in the week, relapses on Saturday. He develops a bad cough and can’t stop shaking with chills and harsh breaths. Dad talks about staying home from work, and he and Mom monitor Sam with concerned looks and hushed confidences between each other. It’s after six when Mom convinces Dad to take Sam to the hospital for difficulty breathing.
    I try to watch TV but can’t concentrate for worrying. I switch to the news, and finally catch the story my mom had referred to. Apparently our state senator had been caught by his wife using campaign donations to engage in “activities” with other women. When she confronted him, he ran off. A short while later, he was pronounced dead. It seems he drowned in a cold nearby river. The whole thing led to a lot of people shouting at each other—about marriage, about adultery, about prostitution, about campaign finance laws, about using someone’s life for political gain, about everything basically.
    It has both the benefit and detraction of not fully engaging my thoughts when my phone rings. It’s Mom. I put it to my ear, hand shaking.
    â€œMom? What is it?”
    Oh,