Another First Chance

by Robbie Couch

Today I don’t mind driving by it like I usually do, though, because Dylan’s billboard got an upgrade overnight: a Mario mustache, freshly spray-painted right above his big, grinning lips. And while some people might call it vandalism, I’m certain Dylan would be dying of laughter if only he weren’t already dead.

I’ve been roped into the spectacle through no choice of my own. If the ambulance arrived sooner, would Dylan have survived? It must have been bad if the Coopers chose to have a closed casket, right? And the absolute worst one: Who was he texting when it happened?

Yeah, I’m the one who spray-painted the mustache on Dylan in the middle of the night, but infinitely more importantly, I’m the reason he’s dead in the first place. And Mavis is the only one that I’m certain knows the truth.

I may smile to make sure Harry knows I appreciate his praise, but the praise mostly feels like the bar’s being raised on me once again.

So I’m a little confused when he says, “Slow down.” I pause. “Slow down… doing what?” “Everything.” Lines crinkle around his eyes. “If it’s not basketball, it’s giving speeches to the student body. And if it’s not speeches, it’s spending your last weekend before summer break alone at school, organizing an event without help from anyone else.”

“I’m telling you,” he says, cutting me off, “your plate’s too full for an eighteen-year-old.” “Seventeen.”

“Whoa,” I say, staring at him wide-eyed. He seems confused by my reaction. “I thought you’d appreciate a hug—” “You thought wrong.” It’s awkward enough when one of my parents tries consoling me with hugs, let alone a slender, possibly-stoned Santa who I just met.

“a friend is someone who reminds you who you are when you’ve forgotten.”

Goldie? In what world would Goldie Candles ever be considered someone who’s “struggling socially”? She has, like, a hundred awful friends at Teawood.

Reminds Me of someone I know

I’d remembered Dylan saying Brady’s hair reminded him of Sonic the Hedgehog, which made me snort out loud at the worst possible moment: just as Dylan’s cousin began crying up front reading a Bible verse. Just like with the mustache, I know Dylan would’ve been laughing right there with me, but people at the funeral were far less amused—most notably, my mom.

I lean forward, pressing my lips into his— He pulls away at once and I lean back quickly, too.

Does this make him a cheater now?

That was hardly a kiss, let alone cheating… right? Or did I just fuck up a two-year relationship with an impromptu peck on the lips?

thats what im saying

Nash sits up, swings his legs over the side of the bed, and slips off his tank top. I take a peek at his protruding back muscles and get a whiff of the same shower gel I smelled the first night I met him in the locker room.

River is so cooked. Just like me can't stop staring at hot people.

“I think River is in love with you,” she says, “and I think you might be in love with him, too.”

She already knew.... She shoud have said something sooner bro

I stare at what has to be the worst-timed message in the history of messages: the photo of us kissing in the gym, accompanied with his text: To cheer you up after a crappy day.

Cooked.

But Nash isn’t smiling at my side in bed, like he’d been when we snapped the pic. He’s not in the photo at all.

Brother......Your cooked

Swirling blue and red lights. Then darkness. All around me. I can’t hear anything. I can see, though. Here and there. Then more darkness. Suddenly, Mavis is hovering above me. She’s sobbing. I want to tell her it’ll be okay. But my voice isn’t working. My body isn’t working. I’m outside, I think, in the rain. A cop is yelling. I can tell by the movement of his lips. What did I do? Then someone else is staring at me. A paramedic, maybe. Why does she look so sad? More darkness.