I can’t actually move that fast, though, because I’m broken on all sides and the mountain is still dark. A bit brighter than it was, maybe, now that day is approaching, but not enough to light the way. We can only follow the road until we get to the next blockage before our cars.
“Mad.” Ever and Finn both reach me at the same time. “Hold up.”
Ever’s still deep in thought, but Finn reaches out to me. I flinch.
“I think my therapist may have someone who can help you. I don’t know what we’ll find once we reach the foot of the mountain, so it might be a while before I’m back there, but I can ask. It’s terrifying, I know. But we survived so far. We can figure it out.”
Ever nods. “I’m sorry we didn’t see that. I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could talk to us about it.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Because I don’t.
“Did you really think we’d leave you to fend for yourself? After I just said that whole thing about asking for help?” Finn’s voice holds a note of teasing, but his expression is rueful.
I shrug, and then curse at my arm. “Yes.”
I lie because it’s safer. I lie because I’m used to people dismissing my perspective as special, different, not quite in touch with what is actually normal and how things really are. I’m not used to being taken seriously.
“Yeah, well.” He scratches his head, and his eyes are dark to the point of being almost black. “I can’t blame you. Anyway, the first time I went to therapy on my own was terrifying. I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know how to act. I could’ve used someone then.”
I blink. This conversation is moving almost too fast for me to catch up. “Are you offering to go with me?”
“Do you want me to?” he asks. “You know I’m heading to college soon, but we can share the start of this, at least.”
“If you still would like company once Finn is gone, I’ll be here too,” Ever adds.
The sheer force of relief knocks everything off balance, and when the universe realigns, the fragile pieces are a little stronger. “Yes. Please.”
“Well, then, yes. I don’t want you to have to do this alone. I want to help if I can. That’s what friends are for, right?” Finn shrugs, self-consciously. “Figuring yourself out is never easy, and now less than ever. It may be a long road before you’re there. And it may be a long road before I get there too.”
“We’re disasters, aren’t we?”
Finn actually laughs at that. “Here’s to the broken kids.”
“Here’s to the survivors.” Ever weaves their fingers through his. And somehow, the idea that two of them will be here for me, in whatever way they can, makes the pain more bearable, but it also digs so much deeper. I didn’t know it was possible to feel devastation and elation, grief and relief at once. I don’t know how to either. I don’t know how to contain all those emotions in my skin, my head, my heart.
I want to tear at my hair. I want to scream. I want my best friend here to hold me, to help me, to be.
All I can do is breathe.
Thirty-Two
Finn
We keep going. Our determination is bright enough to light up the night, but the silence grows deeper, and it reminds us of the empty spots around us. This walk isn’t beautiful. The lava field is a black hole, the pine forest holds ghosts, and steep cliffs are too deadly. We only have one another—and the shadows of the people we have lost.
We keep going, because despair will catch up with us if we don’t.
It turns out despair is fast on its feet.
“If we’re sharing secrets anyway…” Ever draws in a breath. “I’m dropping out.”
I turn so hard, I nearly lose my balance. “You what?”
Ever twirls the branch they picked up, and then they toss it off the cliff. “I’m not going back to school once you’ve graduated.”
“Why? We only have a year to go, and I’ll be there,” Maddy says softly.
“We made college plans,” I add. A pit opens up in my stomach. This is the last thing I should worry about now, but I do, because it’s tangible, and everything else is too big and complicated to touch.
Ever grimaces. “You made plans,” they say. “I have to drop out. Your plan wasn’t going to work, anyway. I know how much this means to you, Finn, but…I don’t see it happening.” They sigh. “Even if I could afford it…I’ve failed half my classes. It doesn’t matter.”
Of course it matters. Of course it matters.
“How is that possible?” I ask. But before they answer, I know. It’s a foolish question. Ever ran our games, they juggled everything their dad couldn’t handle, they prioritized everything for Elle. Something had to give. We just hadn’t noticed it. During our games, they didn’t want to talk about it, and outside of it, they put on a brave face. We missed so much. “What will you do, then?”
“Work. I’ll stay at the bookstore for as long as they’ll have me, but I’ll keep an eye open for other things. The comics store, perhaps, or the game store.” They look down, dragging their foot through the dirt. “Or maybe I can find something that allows me more hours than any of those. They’re the ideal options, but in reality, I’ll settle for almost anything that allows me to earn enough money to help support my family. Up until a few hours ago, I thought I’d apply to work for Liva’s father’s company.”
I hesitate, hovering from Maddy’s side to Ever and back. “Will you at least try to get
