Even though Daren was our designated driver that night, I was emphatic about getting Charity the hell out of that party. I insisted we drive ourselves home.

“To hell with him,” I’d said. “Let’s get out of this shithole!”

“Yeah!” Charity said. “I’m the soberest of the two of us. I’ll drive!”

We were stupid.

We climbed into Charity’s little car and she peeled out onto Canary Road with me as her passenger. We were eighteen and thought we were invincible, listening to loud music as we both ranted and cursed Daren’s name. Then, out of nowhere, Levi’s truck appeared in front of us, blocking the road beside the ridge burn.

Charity slowed down with a curse. “How does my brother always know where we are?” She made a face. “It’s like he has spies everywhere.”

“Your brother’s hot,” I said with a drunk giggle.

“Ew. That’s so gross.”

I sighed and slurred, “I want Leaves to like me.”

“God.” She rolled her eyes. “He does. Leaves loves you. Leaves leaves you. Loves leaves you? What am I trying to say?”

We giggled as we neared the truck.

Levi was standing in the middle of the road, looking like a pissed-off superhero with his messy dark hair and steel-blue eyes as he motioned for Charity to pull over. The hazard lights of his truck blinked into the night as he stood before us.

She pulled over and stopped the car as Levi parked his truck on the side of the road. Then he stormed over to her door.

Yanking it open, he said, “What the hell’s the matter with you, Charity? Driving drunk? Get your ass out of the car!”

She started bawling. “You don’t understand, Leaves. I caught Daren kissing Sierra Umbridge at the party and he’s such an asshole and I just had to get out of that party, so Pixie said we should just drive ourselves—”

“I don’t care!” He leaned in and turned off the ignition.

“Stop yelling at me!” Charity’s tears dried up with her anger.

He grabbed her face and looked at her sternly. “You scared the shit out of me.” His voice trembled as he looked into her eyes and released her chin. “Go get in my truck.”

“I’m really not that drunk—”

“Now,” he said, his voice getting all scary and low.

She shook her head. “No. I need my car in the morning for work and—”

“Fine.” He growled. “Get in the backseat and I’ll drive your car.”

She huffed and clambered out of the car, stumbling in her high heels as she walked to the back door.

He climbed into the driver’s seat and pierced me with his intense gaze, and I swear a piece of my heart broke with just that one look.

I tucked my lips in. “You seem mad.”

“I am mad.” He leaned over and made sure my seat belt was buckled before closing the door and putting on his own.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is all my fault. I told Charity we should drive home. I didn’t mean for you to have to drive out here and get us. I’m so sorry, Leaves. So, so sorry.”

He met my eyes with a desperate gaze, and that’s when I realized his anger was really just fear. Terrible and sad fear.

“Driving drunk is stupid.” He looked away. “You know better, Pix.”

A slow, hot tear rolled down my face. I did know better. I had disappointed him. I had scared him. I’d probably lost him forever too.

Charity climbed into the backseat and fumbled with her seat belt until it clicked into place. Levi pulled back onto the road, driving alongside the ridge burn as he yelled at us about how we should know better. And then…

I don’t know.

Lights. Horns. Whooshing sounds.

And everything went black.

When I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital bed with IVs strung from my limbs, machines beeping at me, and breathing tubes shoved down my throat. I had a nasty gash in my chest from a thick shard of glass that had torn through my body, and my lungs were collapsing.

I was barely alive.

Levi was unconscious a floor below me.

And Charity was dead.

My best friend was dead.

I try to push the memories away as I stare down at the cheesecake. The memories hurt. They hurt so much. But it’s no use.

They all come screaming back, cutting through me like that damn shard of glass until I’m lost and lonely and all flayed open under the dim kitchen lights.

And now I’m crying.

It’s my first game as starting quarterback at ASU. My parents are in the stands with Charity and Pixie, all of them cheering me on. The girls are both wearing jerseys with my name and number on the back, and Pixie has a sun devil painted on her face.

It’s the happiest I’ve ever been. My dreams are within reach, and everyone I care about is rooting for me. I can do this. I will do this.

“Go, Leaves!” Charity calls from the bleachers. I don’t know how I hear her, or how I know it’s Charity’s voice, but I just do. And I’m filled with pride—

I dart up in bed, gasping for air. A thin layer of sweat coats my chest as I try to calm myself. I stare across my dark room at the newly patched wall, my heart slamming against my rib cage, my lungs tight and hot.

I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to remember.

She was so proud…

The ache in my chest coils tighter and tighter until I can no longer stay in bed. I get up. I pace. I run my hands through my hair as I pad across the hardwood floor.

My window rattles with a bellow of thunder as a white fork of lightning strikes outside. The beige envelopes on my desk light up with the flash, daring me to ignore them a moment longer as my heart continues to pound.

Beige envelopes. Nightmares.

Relentless bastards, indeed.

I snatch an envelope up and tear it open, knowing full well what I’ll find inside. The letterhead crinkles as I slowly unfold it.

Dear Mr. Andrews,

I realize your personal life took a tragic turn last year and a slip in your studies is understandable. But as the dean of students here at Arizona State University, I have no choice but to suspend your enrollment until you are ready to return to school with a refreshed perspective. That being said, the terms of your academic probation are temporary and can be rectified by submitting a single essay to my office on the concept of winning.

The concept of winning is not solely reserved for athletics. It applies to all fields of pursuit and, in your case specifically, academic standing. I hope to see your essay on my desk by the end of this summer so Arizona State University may welcome you back, both to school and to the football field, this coming fall.

Sincerely,

Dean Maxwell

Another streak of lightning cuts across the black night and the clouds finally break, releasing the heavy downpour they’ve been holding back all summer. The storm falls to the earth, loud, dark, and wild, as I reread the letter.

Then I crumple it up and toss it in the trash.

The demons can go to hell.

Rain has been falling steady all night, and the morning drizzle doesn’t look as though it will be letting up anytime soon. My sleep was plagued with nightmares and truths, so I’m exhausted as I roll out of bed and quickly shower.

When I exit the bathroom, Pixie is standing there with her shower supplies and a blank expression on her face.

We haven’t spoken in days.

We silently move past each other without speaking, without touching.