After my talk with Pete I just disappeared. Sure I went to school, and did my homework, and the like, but I was absent. And only Liza seemed to notice. Everyday at lunch she went out of her way to bring up past memories or revisit some of our old rituals. There wasn’t day that went by when she didn’t whip out a string cheese packet for me to open or tap me on the opposite shoulder just to get me to laugh. And I did, some, but it was an empty, heartless laughter. I knew that she was only trying to cheer me up, but it was no use. I needed Spencer. And I had no idea where to find her.

In the following weeks I immersed myself in the play, becoming the girl who was always on time and prepared, the girl who baked cookies for the cast everyday, and the girl who always seemed to have some words of encouragement. When really, I was just the girl with nothing better to do than be numb.

I dreamt about Spencer sometimes. They were these weightless dreams where spencer and I sat across from each other, just like on the bus. Only there was no bus, there was just us and the wind. And we talked to each other too, casual conversation that sounded a lot like rustling leaves on pavement. Our voices were small, but our emotions were too big to contain. We were happy.

But the dreams were useless. I always woke up without her.

Even my parents began to notice the change in my behavior. My mother sat me down one Saturday to suggest therapy. I merely shrugged and walked away. My dad started spending Saturday evenings at home, often pulling out his old guitar to play songs for me and Liza when she dared to come around. But mostly, he just sat with me. That was his way. Dad just loved to offer his presence and leave it at that.

“You ready for the show?” Liza asked me one day at lunch. We had been sitting quietly, not eating or anything. I grabbed a carrot from my lunch bag and popped it into my mouth. I had completely forgotten that the play went up in two days.