Abandon - Meg Cabot [40]
I know because Hannah was in the study hall I had with Mr. Mueller and sat at the desk in front of mine. I’d watched her write the note, then leave it for him. I’d even watched as Mr. Mueller opened it.
He hadn’t beamed with pleasure because of it, though.
Not that I’d thought anything of this. Hannah left notes on Mr. Mueller’s desk all the time. They were always elaborately folded and decorated with tiny heart stickers. On my birthday, Hannah had even left me a note, on special stationery that had horses all over it. I’d found it when I sat down at my desk.
Happy Birthday, Pierce! Hannah had written in her big loopy cursive. She’d drawn a picture of a dancing cupcake with a candle on top. Have a great one! Love, Hannah.
Even as cut off as I’d made myself from the rest of the world back then — What’s the point? was my attitude. We’re all just going to die and then not be let on the boat — I couldn’t help but be a little touched. Hannah might not have treated her horse, Double Dare, as well as I thought she should have.
But Hannah cared about people. And because she cared, she made people care about her.
Hadn’t I heard that somewhere before?
Anyway, in spite of her having called me crazy back in the tenth grade, I still liked Hannah Chang.
Which is why I will always blame myself for what happened to her.
I was having breakfast with my mom the morning after I saw Hannah leave the note for Mr. Mueller. Mom, who was reading the local paper, suddenly gave a little cry, then covered her mouth with her hand.
“Mom?” I looked at her curiously over my herbal tea. My neurologist had warned me not to self-medicate with caffeine, because of my bad dreams and insomnia. Mom joked that if my dad ever stopped self-medicating with caffeine, the world would become a much less dangerous place. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said, lowering the paper. Only it wasn’t nothing. Because her face was pale.
“Mom,” I said. “What is it? Tell me.”
“It’s just…” It was obvious that the last thing in the world she wanted to do was tell me.
It was also obvious that she knew she had to.
“It’s just that it says a girl named Hannah Chang died of a drug overdose last night,” Mom said, holding up the paper. “But I’m sure it’s not the same Hannah Chang —”
I choked on the sip of tea I’d taken. When I was through coughing, I said, “Let me see that.”
Local Girl Dies in Apparent Suicide, the article on the front page of our town paper screamed. Hannah’s face, smiling in her school uniform, stared up at me.
Mom hadn’t seen Hannah in nearly two years, because of my retreating into my glass coffin since the accident. Hannah had changed a lot during that time.
“It’s her,” I said, my chest constricting. “It’s Hannah.”
“She can’t have done it on purpose,” Mom murmured, stroking my hair as I stared down at the photo. “It says it was sleeping pills. Maybe she took one and then was so sleepy she forgot, and accidentally took some more. I’m sure she didn’t mean to kill herself.”
I was just as sure that she had. Girls like Hannah Chang didn’t accidentally take too many sleeping pills.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, giving her a quick hug as I stood up. “But I gotta go or I’ll be late.”
“Pierce,” Mom said, looking at me nervously. “Are you all right? It’s okay if you want to stay home today. I know you and Hannah haven’t been close since…well, the accident. But you two were best friends once…”
“It’s all right,” I said automatically. “I’m fine.”
I went to the garage to get on my bike to ride to school. Dad had bought me a BMW convertible for my sixteenth birthday, thinking it would be incentive for me to get my act together and pass the driving test to get my license.
But of course it hadn’t worked. I’d taken the written exam forty-two times already online. I’d never passed.
Because I wasn’t all right. In so many ways.
Hannah’s horse stationery and heart stickers and being star of the basketball team and never forgetting a birthday and pretending evil spirits would possess your soul if you didn’t hold your breath when you went