Saving Everest Read online

  “Yeah,” she responded in a sleepy sigh. I checked the clock and it read 11:46. “Happy birthday.”

  She opened her right eye to glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside us. “Not yet.” Her grin was amused.

  “I wanted to be the first.” She chuckled at my words. “I also don’t think I can make it to twelve. I’m exhausted.”

  Her hand reached out to softly trace my face, something she knew made me instantly tired. She traced every corner and every inch of my face. She traced my lips before pecking them. I would die happily if I died right now.

  “You asleep? My lil’ sunflower,” I heard her ask but didn’t respond. Was I asleep? I didn’t want to wake up if I was.

  She snuggled against me and rested her hand on the side of my face. “Good night, Ev.”

  When I woke up, Beverly was still cuddled up against me, her head snuggled into my neck and our legs in a tangled mess. It wasn’t easy getting out of her grasp without waking her up, but I did it. After freshening up, I grabbed her bags of gifts from my car and hoped that by the time I got back to the room she’d still be asleep. Miranda raised her eyebrows when I left Beverly’s room, but didn’t say anything. Thankfully, Beverly was still asleep. Her position had changed, though—she took advantage of me not taking up so much space and spread out her arms and legs, selfishly hoarding all of the space on the bed.

  “Bev.” I found a small space to sit on the bed.

  She made no move to wake up, so I had to take a different approach. I began to kiss her all over her face; when I reached her neck, her big brown eyes fluttered opened.

  “Happy birthday.” She looked confused before she smiled and laced her arms around my neck. She hugged me while she stretched. Her head nuzzled into mine. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes. I already missed the brief hug she gave me.

  “What’s that?” she said, probably from hearing the bag crinkle in my hands when she hugged me.

  “Nothing much,” I said nonchalantly, as she eyed me knowingly.

  The first gift she pulled out was a designer purse set my mom helped me pick out. I noticed how she never carried a purse, just an old, peeling book bag. The bigger bag came with smaller ones inside or something like that. I had put a couple of bills in the wallet for luck. I was worried she’d hate it, but the smile on her face told me otherwise. The next gift was a fresh new pair of sneakers. She told me straight after that she preferred hers looking worn.

  “You can dirty up another pair now,” I told her while she smiled in response.

  “Thank you, Ev.” She pulled back and stared at me with admiration.

  “You’re welcome, Bev.” She was too happy. There was no way I was going to tell her the news and break this happiness. It would be cruel to do so. After she opened her other smaller gifts, she got ready for school. I threw on a sweat suit and beanie because I had to get ready later in the day anyway.

  Straight after dropping Beverly off at school, I went to 21 Daisies. I only had a bit of time to get everything set up the way I wanted it to be. Nami even dropped in during her free hour to help out.

  “Thanks for dropping by,” I told her just as she was leaving.

  “I did this for Beverly, not you.”

  “Well, could you do another thing for her? Take that bag on the table to her,” I said.

  “What is it?” Her eyes seemed to glow.

  “Another one of her gifts I just picked up.”

  “I guess I could.” She sighed but I knew she was just kidding.

  “Oh, Nami?”

  “What now?” she said with a roll of her eyes.

  “You’re going to keep her busy while I’m at the show, right?” There was no way I could let Beverly be alone on her day. I’d asked her if she wanted to come to the gig, but Nami had said she was going to take Beverly out. I was just double checking at this point.

  “I got this,” she said before she left.

  The café wasn’t open to customers because I’d rented it out for the day. Felix and Lily insisted on no payment, but that didn’t feel right.

  “So, did you tell her yet?” Lucky asked while we hung up streamers.

  I almost answered but decided against it because I knew how bad it was. Hearing it out loud would make me feel even more ashamed.

  “I’m going to take that as a fat no.” Lucky laughed but there was no humor.

  “Why? It’s not a big deal. Just be long distance like me and Tiffykins,” Lincoln added while struggling with the tape.

  “For nine months? It’s unfair of me to have her wait. ’Cause I know she will. We just got together.” I suddenly found my voice; it sounded tougher than intended.

  “So walk away? You’re not going to fight?” Lucky set a pack of balloons down.

  “She deserves more than that. I love her too much to have her wait,” I said, realizing quickly that this was the first time I’d admitted loving her to someone other than myself.

  “Shouldn’t she get a chance to make that decision for herself?” Lucky said, not waiting for my answer. He walked past me and adjusted the centerpieces on the tables.

  “He has a point.” Lincoln spoke from behind me.

  We finished up about an hour later. I went back home to get ready before Lincoln picked me up. This place was a bit bigger than the last. The energy off the rip was wild. It felt like they knew us. When we performed our first song, I could actually hear some of my lyrics shouted back at me. Our hard work was getting us somewhere. I couldn’t tell you what that felt like.

  The crowd screamed, and my blood rushed through my body. My mind was in an alternative universe. I sang better the more people I was around. If I was by myself, I didn’t challenge my voice. I was hitting notes I wasn’t able to hit during practice, my smiles appearing before I could stop them.

  We only had time for half an hour, but it felt like five minutes. That stage. There was nothing like that stage. It was the only thing that could pry me from my best friend’s side. I knew I couldn’t give it up anytime soon. And the guilt I felt for even agreeing to the international tour was missing as we performed.

  Lucky went wild on the drums. It was his best show yet, and I was proud that he evidently had been practicing as much as I had. Lincoln on guitar was insane; he could play with his eyes closed. The neon bracelet Tiffany made at band camp when she was twelve was around his wrist. I wondered how he felt about the tour; how he was going to handle being away that long. Just after our last song, I watched as the crowd screamed and cried out for us. Lights flashed through my skin and bones.

  “We have one more song,” I said into the mic before Lucky could say our sign off.

  I turned my head to see Lincoln and Lucky staring at me in confusion before I made my following statement.

  “Today is the day someone very special to me was born. Beverly, this is for you.” The crowd yelled like they knew who she was or maybe it was because we weren’t leaving the stage just yet.

  The sound of Lucky starting the notes to “Happy Birthday” on the keyboard laced through the screams.

  “I hope you all know the words to this one,” Lincoln joked into the mic, throwing in his guitar sounds to the piano.

  When we got backstage, Lincoln hit me upside the head. “Could you give us a heads-up next time?”

  “I barely remembered the notes to that song,” Lucky chuckled.

  “You sounded great though.” I wrapped my arm around Lucky’s shoulder with a grin. My mood was happier than happy.

  “Everest, we talked about this. They need to feel like you’re attainable—no more talking about that girl,” Jeff, our booking manager, scolded me when he met us, but I was barely listening.

  “Anyway, great show! Excellent. This is it boys. The last show until tour.” Jeff smiled once we got into the dressing room.

  Please don’t remin
d me.

  My happy mood began to fade.

  “February can’t come soon enough,” Lucky sighed.

  Jeff’s laugh was way too loud and way too throaty.

  “I’ve never been anywhere,” Lincoln said after he downed a bottle of water.

  “The experience of a lifetime!” Jeff winked and smiled dramatically before leaving the dressing room.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I spoke for the first time, annoyed by the conversation. I left the dressing room first and the boys followed. They knew what I was upset about but didn’t say anything.

  “What time is it?” Lincoln asked when we got into his van.

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I read the time.

  “All right, we have to hurry ’cause the party is about to start in thirty minutes. I told Tiffykins I wouldn’t be late.” Lincoln spoke his sentence as if it wasn’t extremely cringy.

  “Would you please stop calling her that?” Lucky grumbled.

  “I second that. Also, could you just drop me off at my house? I have to shower. I’ll just meet you guys there.” I was all sweaty and wanted to look good for Beverly. Lincoln nodded and did what I asked. I asked if they wanted to freshen up at my house, but they declined.

  “I’m good.”

  “Sweat is good for the body.”

  After I got ready, I decided to wear a navy-blue crewneck sweater that she had picked out for me a few weeks ago when we went shopping. I looked in the mirror and touched my sandy-brown hair. It was so weird looking like myself again—well, like myself but with the addition of tattoos. I was glad I had them, though. Without them, I looked like the preppy, snotty kid that I looked like before.

  Picking up my keys, I hopped into my car. When I checked my pockets to shoot a text that I was on the way, my phone wasn’t there. I looked everywhere. Underneath seats, in my house, in my old pair of pants, and around my room before I realized the last place I had it was in Lincoln’s van when I checked the time. Now more than ever, I had to make it to the party. I felt naked without my phone.

  “Let’s go!” I yelled out the window, and honked my horn. Three cars ahead a sloth was driving in traffic that presumably came from out of nowhere. They weren’t even going the speed limit. My luck was getting worse and worse by the second. My nerves were already jacked from leaving my phone in Lincoln’s van, now I had to worry about being late.

  That was when I remembered a shortcut. There was an abandoned park I used to hang out at all the time with Nash when we were younger. If I just cut through there, I should have a straight path to Brisklin Street. At the idea, my body automatically went into gear and headed in that direction. I had so many memories of High Point Park. It was one of my first hiding places when I first moved here.

  The sun was beginning to set and turn dim. I glanced at my clock and realized the party had started about forty minutes ago, but I had told Beverly that I’d be a little late, so I should still make good time.

  When I approached High Point Bridge, I saw a guy staring down at the water before taking off his shirt. And then I noticed something strange—a scar running down the side of his torso. The only person I know with that scar was—

  Nash?

  Bruises laced the right side of his face, his right eye blooming purple by the second. I stopped the car by the side of the road and raced out to meet him in the middle of the bridge.

  “Everest?” he whispered, his stance swaying slightly. He’d been drinking, I could tell immediately.

  “What you doing, Nash, man?”

  He looked out at the lake, a vacant look on his features. “I’m about to go for a swim.”

  That was when I knew something was seriously wrong.

  “You’re afraid of water, Nash,” I said as I walked closer to him.

  “Stay back!” he shouted.

  I stopped in place.

  “Okay, okay.” I held my arms up and took a step back, fearful that he might jump.

  “What happened?” So many questions swam around my head, but that was the only one that came out. Who caused those bruises? Why was he out here? How could it be that we’d run into each other like this?

  “You wouldn’t understand. No one understands what I’m going through!” he cried in anguish.

  “Okay, well, make me understand,” I said in attempt to make him talk about what had happened.

  “You won’t get it.” He shook his head before facing the water.

  At that my emotions coursed through me.

  “Are you kidding me? If anyone understands, it’s me. Okay? It’s me. I’ve been there, Nash. I lay awake antagonizing myself. I’ve cried until I could barely breathe. I actually did it. I went through with my attempted suicide just to live. I’ve dealt with being on the edge and coming back from the dead. I’ve faced the disappointment and disgust that followed my recovery. I understand all too well.” The last sentence of my rant got caught in my throat. Tears of my own were desperate to escape.

  “You won’t talk me out of it,” he said quickly before climbing over the railing and standing on the other side. I almost panicked but I quickly realized that would make the situation worse. The ledge was very small. His grip on the railing in front of him was the only thing keeping him steady.

  “If you jump, I’ll wear plaid to your funeral,” I said, knowing he hated plaid more than he hated himself, and taking the opportunity to take a few steps closer.

  “Now is not the time to make jokes.” He looked disgusted.

  “You’re right. I’m just scared. I don’t want you to jump. Please get down.”

  There was a pause. He stared down at me, and his eyes pleaded with me. Pleaded with me to help.

  “For what? There’s no point.” His voice was soft.

  “The point is that life isn’t pointless. You think me showing up at this exact time at this exact place was a coincidence? You think it was a coincidence that if the ambulance was called ten minutes later on the night of my attempt that I’d be gone? We are here for a reason. You are here for a reason. I know it sounds strange, and unlikely. But I swear, I swear to you, Nash, that it’s true. I didn’t believe it at first, either, but I believe it now. You have to know that you’ll never find happiness if you die with sadness.

  “I can’t tell you that you’ll be immediately fine,” I continued. “Or that you’re okay. Because, clearly you aren’t. But I will say that it gets better.” I took slow steps toward the railing where he stood.

  “What suicide prevention flyer did you steal that from?” An empty laugh followed. “I said stay back! Not everyone can have a success story like you. Give up football and become a rock star the next day.” His grip faltered for a moment but he caught it.

  “Success? I still struggle. I still get sad and scared. I don’t have everything figured out. Every day there’s this lingering emptiness where the depression used to be. I’m still recovering. But I’m glad I’m still here. I’m so glad that I’m not dead. Because I’m giving myself a fighting chance to be happy. Because I’m healing day by day. Because I wouldn’t be here on High Point Bridge stopping you from jumping.”

  My heart beat wildly in my chest, thumping all the way up to my eyes, triggering my breathing to pick up. He couldn’t jump; he would drown.

  “It’s over for me. They know. The guys know. It’s only a matter of time before word spreads. They’ll never accept me for who I am. I’m disgusting. Jacob even refuses to talk to me. I have nothing.”

  I took in the scene and froze for a moment. Because for once in my life, I knew exactly how someone felt. That was me once upon a time. He wasn’t just the guy who’d deserted me. He was the fourteen-year-old kid who’d convinced all of the football team that I wasn’t some prissy rich kid, and that I could actually play a hell of a game. He was the kid whose house was like my second home when things were bad at my hou
se. He was the kid who’d stuck up for me before I had the chance to stick up for myself. Yes, he was a jerk for turning his back on me, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his moments.

  “This isn’t over. Fuck them. Fuck everyone who has made you feel like you aren’t enough. You are not disgusting. Anyone who doesn’t accept you isn’t worth any more of your time. Consider it a blessing they leave.”

  Another pause.

  “Don’t act like you care,” he spat at me with so much hurt I didn’t understand.

  “Of course I care, Nash. You were my best friend, man. It wasn’t always bad. We had some good times. Despite it all, I never wanted this for you. I know we haven’t talked in a while but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about y—”

  “Oh yeah?” he said aggressively, cutting me off. “Is that why you tried to leave?” His eyes were reddening, tears piling on top of each other to escape his eyes.

  His words tore open my heart.

  “Is that why you tried to leave me behind, Everest?” He repeated his question, his grip on the railing loosening.

  “I didn’t try to leave you, Nash. I wasn’t thinking about anyone that night. Just how you aren’t thinking about what this will do to your dad—”

  “I could care less—”

  “What would your mom think about this?” For a moment I felt like I’d said the wrong thing because something harsh flickered in his eyes.

  “Don’t you dare talk about my mom! Don’t you dare act like you fucking know me!”

  “But I do know you, Nash. I know you better than you know yourself.” I took a step closer, my voice rising a bit. “You’re afraid of water because you almost drowned at Gold Oaks Country Club when you were ten. To this day you won’t go near water. You listen to George Strait every day like it’s a part of your religion. You’re allergic to gerbils. Only gerbils. You cut the crust off all your sandwiches like a weirdo. That little tattoo of a bird on your thumb is a matching tattoo you got with your mom when you came out to her. It means freedom, but after she passed, you never granted yourself that . . .”