Boy by Blake Nelson

Chapter 3

It took a couple days for Antoinette to come back to school. She showed up on a Friday morning and a hush fell over the frosh/sophomore wing. People wanted to talk about her and gossip, you could tell. But nobody really knew her. Nobody knew what had happened exactly.

The teachers tried to act like everything was normal. During first period, Mrs. Hennings was teaching her class, but then Olivia Goldstein asked her point-blank what was the best thing to say to someone if a family member had committed suicide. So then there was a big discussion about that. According to Mrs. Hennings, the proper thing to say was, "I'm sorry for your loss," just like you'd say if someone died some other way, like getting hit by a bus. For some reason that was the example people kept using, "getting hit by a bus," as if that were the most normal way to die.

Other people didn't need to be told what to say. They went right up to Antoinette and said how sorry they were and offered to help in any way they could. These were the weirder, less popular girls. They were eager to be part of something so serious and dramatic. Like finally someone needed their help, finally they had a role to play at their school.

I had my own feelings about the situation. Mainly that it might seem weird to people that I went to Antoinette's house that day. People might talk. I decided I should say something to Antoinette to make her see it wasn't a big deal.

I waited a couple days for things to calm down. Then I saw Antoinette waiting after school for her ride. She was sitting on a bench, by herself, which was rare, since she now had this little group of girls following her around. These were those same girls who had offered their condolences the week before. They were like a gang all of a sudden. Antoinette's "suicide friends," people called them.

I walked up to her, making sure to be extra polite. "Hi," I said, without sitting down.

Antoinette glanced up at me once, then looked away. "My name's Gavin. I don't know if you remember me—" "I remember you," she said.

I very slowly sat down beside her. Not too close. For a moment we didn't speak. We watched the other students, freshmen mostly, walking out to their parents' cars.

"How's it going?" I said.

Antoinette did a little shrug.

I nodded my head a few times. "I know it must have seemed weird," I said. "Me showing up at your house the other day."

"Yeah," she said. "It did."

"What happened was . . . well . . . I heard about your brother . . . and I felt bad, of course . . . and I was in the neighborhood anyway and I decided to swing by . . . not for any reason, you know . . . and then you happened to come outside at the exact moment—"

"How did you know where I lived?"

"Someone said the street," I told her.

That seemed to satisfy her. A silence fell between us. I felt like it was a good silence, a positive silence. "I'm sorry for your loss," I said.

"That's what everyone says."

Some of Antoinette's new friends were standing nearby. They were watching me talk to her. They were trying to decide if they should come to her rescue or not.

I figured I'd said enough. It was time to go.

"Anyway . . . ," I said, getting to my feet.

"Thanks for stopping by, Gavin," said Antoinette.

I nodded once and walked away. Behind me, I could hear Antoinette's friends hurrying to her aid, questioning her about me.

"Do you know who that is?" "That's Gavin Meeks!"

"Do you know him?"

"What did he want?"

"Oh my God, Antoinette, he was totally talking to you!"