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Ricky considered the idea. “I’d be embarrassed,” he said honestly. “I don’t want everyone to know what happened.”

“Understandably,” Mr. Finnegan replied, “but I’m afraid the cat is out of the bag. Teachers are usually the last to hear about such things. I wish I could say the principal had pulled me aside to let me know about your struggles. But that’s not how I found out. At least this way, you could tell your side of the story, although that’s not why I’m suggesting the idea.” He took a deep breath. “I attempted to take my own life when I was in my early twenties.”

“You did?” Ricky asked.

“Yes. And afterwards, everyone said well-meaning things to me, but very little of it made me feel better. Do you know what did?”

Ricky shook his head.

“Hearing from other people who had been through the same thing. That’s what I’m hoping for, Ricky, because you aren’t alone. Other students have tried to take their own lives, and more pressingly, some are considering it even now. Perhaps they’ll get the idea when hearing about your attempt. I don’t say that to make you feel guilty. You have an opportunity to help them, and yourself, by providing an honest account of why young people feel compelled to take such drastic action.”

Which would mean that everyone would read that he’d felt like a loser without any friends. And that he was heartbroken, because no matter how hard Ricky had tried to convince himself, he wasn’t over Jeremiah yet.

“Think about it,” Mr. Finnegan said. “We would include suicide hotline numbers with the article. I’m convinced that, together, we can prevent people from making the same mistake you and I did. At least, I hope that’s how you feel about it.”

Ricky nodded. “I’m glad I didn’t succeed.”

“So am I,” Mr. Finnegan said. “I understand how daunting my request must be, so let’s try this: Write the article for yourself. Then decide if you feel comfortable showing it to me or anyone else. I’ll give you a passing grade no matter what.”

Ricky perked up at this.

Mr. Finnegan laughed. “There’s a silver lining to every cloud.” He checked his watch. “The bell is about to ring, so I’ll let you gather your things. It’s been a real pleasure having you in my class, Ricky. I’m looking forward to seeing what lies ahead. My own future was filled with more happiness than I ever could have imagined, and I’m convinced yours will be too.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

As far as pep talks went, Mr. Finnegan had a strange approach. Not in a bad way either. Ricky decided to take journalism again next semester. He needed more friends, and nobody said they had to be the same age as him.

— — —

Mr. Finnegan was right. News traveled fast. Ricky was ingym class, wearing the skimpy shorts and thin T-shirt that never smelled great, even when freshly washed. They were in the middle of the usual warm-up routine. It was only second period and it already felt like everyone was looking at him funny. He had just overheard a couple guys in the locker room whispering about his suicide attempt. And it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he took the first pill!

He wished everyone would go back to ignoring him. Diego included, who for whatever reason, was glaring at him nonstop. At least they weren’t on the soccer field anymore. The coach informed them that they would be playing volleyball inside. With the girls. That gave the guys something else to focus on for the rest of the period. Ricky wasn’t harassed when getting dressed in the locker room, although he had to suffer plenty of stares and whispers when walking to English class.

Diego was on time, for once. He showed up with damp hair, smelling like the generic soap that was in the school restrooms. And the gym showers too apparently. Ricky couldn’t wash his hands without thinking of him and getting a little turned on. Today was no exception, although he kept his attention on the teacher, only catching Diego’s movements in his peripheral vision. He was gripping the desk like he usually did, although today he was especially white-knuckled.

Once the period ended, Ricky began walking to the cafeteria while lost in thought. This made it all too easy for Diego to step in front of him and block his path. Which seemed to be his only goal because he just stood there glaring like he had all day.

“What do you want?” Ricky asked with a sigh of resignation.

“I heard,” Diego grumbled. “About what you tried to do.”

“Sorry,” Ricky said, “but I was getting tired of waiting for you to kill me, so I decided to speed things up.”

“Don’t,” Diego said, shoving a fat finger in Ricky’s face. “Do you hear me? Don’t ever do that again or I’ll fucking lose it!”

Ricky stared at the trembling finger until it was pulled away. Then he looked into a face ravaged by emotion. Those cinnamon eyes were wet and scowling.

“Okay?” Diego added hoarsely.

Ricky nodded. “Yeah.”

“Are you all right?”

Ricky stared in shock before he nodded. “I don’t actuallywant to die. I mean, I did but… not anymore.” He noticed a group of girls peering at him while whispering to each other. “I just wish everyone would stop staring at me.”

Diego followed his gaze. “What the hell are you looking at?” he snarled. Loud enough that the girls scattered and the hall around them cleared.

“Thanks,” Ricky said with a chuckle. “That’s better.”