Page 59 of String Boys

Seth thought of Kelly, the way he’d been brutalized in that dank shithole of a room, and something must have shown on his face.

“He was hurt worse,” she said softly.

“Way worse,” Seth told her. “But he’ll be okay. He should be home by now. I just….” He grimaced. “I wanted him to know I love him.”

“I don’t think he could doubt that, even for a minute.”

“Amara, I left. My mom left when I was five years old. She died in a car accident that I’m pretty sure wasn’t her idea, but my dad and I were pissed at her for the next four years. Because even if it’s not their fault, you still get mad that they’re gone.”

Amara looked at her plate disconsolately. She’d eaten her sandwich and given Seth her fruit and her dessert, and she was eyeballing her chips, he could tell.

He reached out and put her hand on her chips. “I’ll save some bread at dinner for tomorrow,” he told her, untroubled. “It was worth it.”

She shook her head. “I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow, you dingus. And for the rest of the week. And if you ask me nice and don’t be too much of a moron, I can show you how to buy stuffed animals for way cheaper at the campus store. Wait until your dad sets up your bank account and card. You’ll be able to eatandspoil Kelly, I swear.”

Seth smiled at her then, as bright as he’d been able to summon since Kelly had disappeared.Oh God. Had it really been a week ago?

“Thanks,” he said softly. He peeled the lid off the pudding and began to eat. Yeah. He’d been hungry. He could admit it now.

So getting back to his dorm room to “rest,” as the counselors called it, had been his chance to check his laptop and see if maybe, maybe this time, Kelly had been able to answer.

Getting Kelly’s email had been even better than the apple and the pudding.

It had fed his soul.

And he couldn’t wait to send an email back.

Heya, Kelly.

I hated leaving you. I need you to take a selfie if you can, so I can imagine you in my dad’s apartment and not in the hospital.

That would be good.

I’m not sure if I told you, but we’re doing an internship this summer before we start actual school at Bridgford. It’s like permanent summer camp for band nerds.

I’m supposed to be partnered with someone who can teach me, but after lunch, the teacher pulled me aside and said I was the best violinist here and then gave me a bunch of first-chair work to practice instead of the second chair I’d learned all semester.

I wish they’d find someone who wasn’t here during the summer to play first chair, because this shit is really hard, and I only had the practice room for an hour today.

I wish you were in the practice room listening to me play.

Anyway, I’m glad you got the presents. I’ll probably only be able to send you cards for a little while, but you deserve presents every day.

Maybe have your little sisters warn you. Tell them it has to be a Kelly rule now. They have to say they’re there.

You can write me anytime about healing. And about being scared. And about what it takes to feel better.

I won’t tell anyone.

And I’ll try to remember to tell you about my day.

Amara gave me lunch today. Even her pudding. She was sorry you were hurt too, but I didn’t tell her how bad.

That’s private. And yours.

Anyway, it’s embarrassing how long this letter took me. I’m going to take pictures of my dorm room and the campus now so I can text them to you.

That way you won’t feel cheated.