Saving Everest Read online

  Saving Everest

  Sky Chase

  CONTENTS

  A Note from the Publisher

  Dedication

  Poem

  Chapter 1

  Poem

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chatper 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  A Note from the Publisher

  This novel deals with themes like suicide and depression. If you or anyone you care about is having similar thoughts or experiences, please know that there is support available. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline provides 24-hour assistance at 1-800-273-8255 or SuicidePreventionLifeline.org. For global resources, refer to w.tt/HelpPreventSuicide for international helplines.

  Dedication

  To Marlee

  For I wouldn’t have known true friendship

  if it weren’t for you

  Poem

  Every time you cry, I feel it. My eyes swell with fat salty tears and my lungs deflate. My throat becomes dry and my heart twists in knots.

  I feel every ounce of your pain.

  And I’m so sorry.

  I know what it’s like to feel like you’re just floating through life.

  That you feel like you have no purpose.

  That only if you died, people would understand your pain.

  Do you realize that there are millions of people who understand exactly how you feel?

  Depression houses millions of people.

  It’s tragic because you didn’t choose to live there; it kidnapped you.

  Please escape.

  You don’t have to give up. You can’t see the world because depression blindfolded you, but life is truly beautiful.

  It’s so damn beautiful it brings tears to my eyes.

  I didn’t see it before.

  You don’t know how much I wish I would have dragged the blade upon depression’s skin instead of my own.

  I look back and wonder why I added more pain to myself. It doesn’t sound logical.

  I lived life with a lock on my lips. I was dying inside, but no one knew it. The key sat hidden under my heart, but I was oblivious.

  I believed that there was no saving me.

  Please don’t believe that.

  Because you deserve to be happy.

  I looked at your smile before this mess happened, and it was golden.

  Chin up, you’re golden.

  1

  Beverly

  It wasn’t every day that you heard about the most popular guy in school attempting to end his life. It was actually the last thing I expected to hear this morning.

  All summer I dreamed about this day. Working three jobs, you kind of can’t help but dream. Lifeguarding was where I decided I should probably try out for cheerleading. Working concessions at Heinz Field was where I came up with the idea of trying out for the musical. Being at 21 Daisies Café reminded me that I couldn’t sing or dance, but in reality all I wanted was to make my last year of high school memorable. Now, with the halls caving in from all the talk of suicide, I wished nothing more than to forget this day. The voices of the other students echoed through the halls. Although different they were all the same.

  “Why are we even talking about him?”

  “It’s not like he actually died.”

  “Who would have known Everest would do this?”

  “He probably tried to kill himself because he realized how much of a demon Cara was. If I was dating the devil’s spawn, I would try to kill myself too.”

  As I walked on the freshly polished floors of the halls and digested the poisonous conversations I passed by, I subconsciously found myself heading toward the nurse’s office. Everest Finley was the king of Shady Hills Academy, so it wasn’t that surprising that rumors swirled around him. Once, I heard that he had an affair with the Mandarin teacher; later I realized our school didn’t even teach the language. For a brief moment I allowed myself to believe that this was one of those ridiculous stories.

  But on the way to the nurse, I noticed that even the teachers were huddled outside their classrooms, glancing around every so often as they whispered in heated conversations. Taking sips from their ceramic coffee mugs and nodding their heads, they engaged in their own whisper-fests. With each step grew this feeling—this terrible, dreadful monster of a feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  I never made it to the nurse.

  The school called an emergency assembly, and although there was no mention of the subject, we all knew what it was about. Mr. Sticks, our principal, who usually wore a permanent scowl on his stern face, shared a look of remorse as he broke the news. He was a large man, but on that stage he seemed really small. He ran a hand through his thinning gray hair and read off a paper he held with shaking hands.

  “We take seriously the importance of a positive school climate and the safety and well being of our students and staff. Mental health professionals are available to anyone who is in need. It is important to talk to someone if you feel like giving up.” He spoke solemnly.

  The rest of the speech was a blur. My head spun as the auditorium buzzed.

  I was stunned by how callous everyone was being—it seemed like no one even cared. These people had practically worshipped the ground Everest walked on for the past three years. Even from a distance, Everest seemed to be one of those people you couldn’t help but like. One time, when the school band didn’t raise enough money for their trip to Disney World, he paid the difference.

  The best part was that he tried to make it anonymous. He was the quiet jock, and when he would talk, he sounded so polite, so well educated. He was ridiculously amazing on the football field, and was incredibly humble and modest about it. No, it couldn’t be Everest. He was perfect.

  Being the only black girl at a predominately white school made me stick out like a sore thumb. I didn’t really fit in anywhere, so I was always kind of thrown off to the side. Everest, though, was undeniably admired by everyone. Shockingly, it seemed as though I was the only person who felt any sympathy. Just because his body wasn’t dead didn’t mean his soul wasn’t barely living.

  Sophomore year in biology, I remembered him picking up my book once. It was something that I’ll never forget. He didn’t even look at me as he handed it back. As I scrambled to gather my belongings, it had fallen, and as he was walking down the aisle to leave class, he bent down, picked it up, and laid it on my desk. It was
such a simple thing for him to do, but I appreciated it anyway.

  That was just about the only interaction I’d had with Everest Finley. After that day, though, I watched him. That sounds incredibly creepy, but I did.

  I noticed how he tugged on his lush sandy-brown hair when he was thinking. I noticed how he was always polite and respectful, even when his friends were being stuck-up and rude. I noticed how his eyes weren’t exactly blue or green, like the two colors were fighting for dominance, the azure in the lead most of the time. If one thing was for sure, Everest Finley had some breathtaking eyes. I couldn’t help but see how he laughed a lot, and had one of those smiles that was perfect—rehearsed, even. Like there was something deeper, something different, behind it.

  I wondered what made him want to die. Everest had the world at his feet, so why did he want to leave it?

  Everest had been the topic all day today. By the time lunch rolled around, it was like hearing every conversation all at once. Each table had their own set of thoughts to share. Although different, they were all the same:

  “Everest is so selfish.”

  “Seriously, he really failed his suicide attempt.”

  “His story is now on the news. Do you know how bad this makes our school look?”

  “Imagine if he comes back. That would be so awkward.”

  “I don’t care if he’s crazy, I’ll still blow him.”

  Cara, his girlfriend, sat at the usual table with the popular kids. A handful of cheerleaders and in-betweeners were at her side as she cried. Nash Spies, Everest’s best friend, wrapped his arm around Cara in an attempt to calm her down. Martha, her best friend, stroked her hair.

  “How could he do this to me? I can’t handle this kind of stress.”

  The cafeteria was loud, but I was able to make out the words that passed through Cara’s lips. Nash’s face held no kind of emotion as he rubbed her back in a soothing manner.

  I entered the line and quickly paid for a bottle of water. I was desperate to get away from all the chatter from the assembly. This year, one of the things I promised myself was that I would start eating in the cafeteria, but there was no way I could do that today. No words could explain how happy I was that I didn’t have to stand in the line anymore. Every conversation was about the boy who tried to kill himself.

  Walking past the popular table again, Cara was now laughing. Clutching my water tight, I made my way to my spot. The place where I could be alone and eat—the library. It wasn’t like anyone noticed that I didn’t eat lunch in the cafeteria. If someone needed a book, they’d use the new library in the west wing of the school. When it was built, it seemed as though everyone had forgotten the library in the east wing. It provided me with a space where I could be a true hermit. Sitting at one of the old oak tables, I pulled out my journal and started to draw. My pencil glided along the paper, a great sense of sorrow in the motion.

  Alone. But that was how I was used to being anyway.

  Poem

  I don’t even have to know you

  To have the wisdom of knowing

  That the world would suffer a great loss

  If you weren’t here

  2

  Everest

  Words couldn’t even come close to describing how I felt right now. I didn’t know what was more sad: the fact that I tried to kill myself or how I failed.

  I failed. I was still here. Why was I still here?

  My mom was convinced I was crazy. Out of the five days I’d been in the hospital, my dad had come to visit me a total of two times—not to mention he was on his phone the whole time—my little sister was afraid of me, and none of my friends had come to visit or even called.

  I had a feeling this was what it would be like if everyone knew just how messed up I was.

  “I don’t see why you are so against the Sunshine Valley Rehabilitation Center!” my mom whispered furiously at my father.

  I could just imagine it now. My mom, tears brimming in her eyes for the hundredth time this week, looking up at my father—who would have rather been back on his phone and putting this whole situation out of his mind—and pleading for her son to get thrown in some mental hospital because she was afraid to be alone with him.

  “He needs some serious mental help,” she continued, her voice cracking at the end.

  That was the thing—I didn’t want help. I wanted to be dead.

  This week all I kept hearing was how I needed help. In stale rooms and cold leather chairs, I tried to look anywhere but into the burning gaze of Dr. Marinzel, whose eyes seemed to go right through me. Typically, I settled on this terrible drawing of a bear on the wall, or a cow—I could never make out exactly what the creature was, so I’d spend my sessions trying to figure it out. Marinzel, or Marty, who insisted we both be on a first name basis, was consistently trying to get me to talk—but I couldn’t. I hated myself more for putting myself in this situation. I was embarrassed that everyone knew what I tried to do. I never wanted to disappear more. So I pretended that I wasn’t there. I didn’t talk for a full week.

  “How are you feeling today?”

  Silence.

  “You don’t have to talk until you’re ready.”

  Silence.

  “Everest, I believe you have major depression. You may feel a lot of negative emotions with this diagnosis, like shame? Or anger. That’s normal. You don’t need to come to terms with clinical depression right away. What’s most important is that you know that you aren’t alo—”

  Silence.

  I ignored Marty for so long that he stopped prodding me and instead we spent our hour with him staring at me while I stared at the drawing, most likely in hopes that the silence would get too loud for me. Sometimes it did, but I never knew what to say when those moments came. Sometimes I’d lose myself in the whispering classical music he’d play. It wasn’t exactly my style, but some music is better than no music. Thankfully, my parents saw that I wasn’t getting any better and decided I didn’t have to attend any more sessions. During our last session Marty decided to join my observation.

  “What an odd-looking monkey,” he remarked, and I turned my head to the angle he was viewing it from, and sure enough, the muddled picture finally made sense.

  “All this time I thought it was a bear.” I leaned back against the hard cushion seemingly satisfied, and it was then that I realized this was the first time I had talked since the attempt. Marty realized, too, because, for a brief moment, his face flashed with surprise before he concealed it.

  My father’s sharp voice shook my thoughts. I squeezed my eyes shut harder as I heard my parents’ footsteps approach. “No son of mine is crazy. He will not attend that crazy house. I can’t have that kind of baggage under our name.”

  Oh, I almost forgot the argument between my parents about attempting to send me away to a building filled with Martys trying to pick apart the darkest parts of my mind. Good thing my dad’s pride would never allow such a thing. The only reason I was in therapy was because it was kind of mandatory after trying to kill yourself. Who would’ve thought?

  I felt a hand laid on my forehead gently.

  “I failed as a mother.” Wetness invaded my cheeks as my mom sobbed. Her tears rolled down my cheeks and down my neck. I lay there, not daring to open my eyes.

  “Go get yourself cleaned up. The nurses are going to come in soon to check his vitals. Your makeup is dripping,” my father’s deep voice commented, void of any emotion. He didn’t even cry at his brother’s funeral. I wasn’t surprised he wouldn’t have any emotion at a time like this. Sometimes I wondered if he had to charge himself at night.

  “Okay,” she replied, her voice broken. Her hand left my forehead, and I soon heard my mother’s designer heels click out of the hospital room.

  I felt my father’s presence tower over me, watching me. I took deep breaths and let the oxygen pass throug
h my nose, to make the idea of me sleeping more realistic.

  The beats of my heart filled my ears in an almost a mocking tone. My chest moved up and down with each breath. Lungs expanded and deflated, one of the most disappointing rhythms I’d ever heard.

  I didn’t even realize my father was still in here until I heard his phone ringing.

  “Hey, baby, I can’t wait to see you tonight.” He spoke in a hushed whisper. I didn’t know why though, it wasn’t like I didn’t already know he was screwing his assistant.

  While my mom had been here—afraid out of her mind—beside me, my dad had been seizing the opportunity to further his affair. I thought this one’s name was Tanya. She was twenty-four-years old and was into men with wives and money.

  I was sure my mom suspected it, but she’d rather ignore the situation. It was so painfully obvious, and I didn’t understand how she could. Late nights in the office, business trips that weren’t actually business, and an assistant who dressed like she was trying to satisfy every man’s wet dream. She tried to come onto me once, but gold-digging vultures with more boobs than brains weren’t really my type. My father chuckled deeply into the phone, which was actually a weird sound because my father never laughed . . . and because he sounded like a bald, eighty-year-old man who only wore wifebeaters with denim cutoff shorts.

  The door opened and my mother’s heels clicked toward where I lay and my father stood.

  “Okay, remember to bring those forms to the meeting tonight. I’ll see you later.” He cleared his throat and spoke professionally before ending the call.

  “Another meeting?” My mom sounded back to her regular self.

  “Yeah, Sonya and I have some more business to discuss.”

  “Hadley’s recital is tonight. Can you please stay with Everest so I can go to her event?”

  My father cleared his throat, something he did when he didn’t approve. “No, you have to stay. I have some important business I need to handle tonight at the office.”