Anchor

“Anthony Fayheath was found dead at six thirty this morning.”

The words continue echoing in my head, engraving themselves deep into my psyche. I stare emptily at the carpeted floor of the school psychologist’s office. I quickly glance at the five others sitting around me. Everyone has a stunned look on their face. There is no sudden whimper or cry. No tears falling helplessly. It is just a surprised silence.

I meet the eyes of Connor Easton, sitting two seats away from me. We seem to share our thoughts. I can tell exactly what he is thinking just by looking into his light blue eyes.

Why?

The psychologist continues, “It seems that he overdosed on a sedative and just never woke up. We thought it would be best to inform you all, seeing as you seemed the closest to him.”

I bite my lip and look back at Connor. He is staring at the ground.

The psychologist clears her throat and I want to scream. She says, “Something like this hasn’t happened in this school for a very long time. We thought it would be best to inform Anthony’s other friends as well. His mother says it’s okay.” No one speaks so the woman moves on, “That means that students who were in relation to Anthony will be asked to stay after school for a few moments so we may speak to them. I would like you six to be there as well. We’ll send a pass for all of you to meet us in the small auditorium five minutes before school ends.” After a minute of silence, she adds, “I’ll leave you guys for a bit. You may go to the bathroom if you’d like. Make calls to your parents or whatever it is you need to do. I’ll be back shortly.”

The lady stands upright and walks confidently out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Only then do we start crying.

I am shaking and sobbing and hyperventilating. I don’t see what the others are doing because I’m too preoccupied with falling apart.

How does this happen? How can the boy I met this summer, the boy who brightened up the entire room with his smile, be dead? What would’ve caused this beautiful person to commit suicide?

I wish my thoughts could just end right there. I wish they could. But somewhere, deep within my heart, I know exactly why. And it hurts a lot.

---

I don’t know how long I’ve been crying. It might’ve been a few seconds, or forty minutes. All I know is the sudden warmth of a person wrapping their arms around me. I open my eyes and face up. Connor is there, holding me tightly from behind, with tears falling down his face. I reach and grab his arms.

Around us, the others are grieving in their own way. We are all one huge mess of tears and whimpers.

One of my closest friends, Blaine, stands. “I guess we’d better text our parents”, he mumbles and then walks out of the room, one hand covering his trembling mouth and the other gripping his cell so tightly it turns his knuckles white.

One by one, the group separates, my friends excusing themselves until it is just me and Connor. I get up to call my mother, but Connor grabs my wrist.

He sighs. “Can I come home with you today? My parents won’t get home until late.”

I look at him. “I’ll ask.”

Connor nods and lets go of my arm. I exit the room but instead of going to the bathroom, I stand directly in front of the door. I do not want to have to face my other friends right now.

My heart is still pounding in my chest as I text my mother the news. I know she should be on her lunch break right now and pray that she’ll reply soon.

She does, with an “I’m sorry” and a “Of course Connor can stay over”. I turn off my phone and re-enter the room.

“She says you can stay over”, I whisper.

Connor grabs me and pulls me into his arms. I bury my head into his shoulder and let him envelop me. “Thank you”, he says, his voice cracking. “You don’t know how much I need you.”

And he’s right, I don’t. I’m a bit confused by what he means, but I don’t care to ask. All I care about right now is him holding me, and our shared sadness at the news of our dead friend.

---

(A month ago)

Connor is sitting at the piano, playing my favorite song. I close my eyes and smile, listening to the music. When he finishes the song, I open my eyes and look at him.

“Did you know that apparently the more complex a song is, the more attractive the musician appears to be?”, I ask him. I don’t think he really cares but I ask anyway.

Connor smiles his beautiful smile. “Really now?” Then, he begins playing an incredibly insane piece of music, his fingers delicately flying across the piano keys. “Am I attractive now?”, he asks, not even looking up.

I laugh and try desperately to cover up my blushing face. Connor must’ve seen it, because he stops and smiles at the ground. We stand in an awkward silence until Anthony (who had been standing next to me the entire time) grabbed my arm and dragged me across the room.

“Do you like Connor?!”, he half screams at me.

My hand immediately goes to slap Anthony as I reply, “No! Absolutely not!”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Do not!”

“Yeah.”

“Fine, maybe a little.”

“I knew it!”

I shush him. “Please, do not tell anyone. I really do like him, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship. Connor’s an amazing person. And besides, I don’t think he’d be that into me.”

Anthony rolls his eyes. “I won’t. But, just saying, you never know.”

I sigh and stare across the room, back at Connor. His brown hair barely covers his ears and falls so perfectly. He pushes one side behind his ear and continues playing melodies. He works magic with the piano and I adore him. He is wonderful and perfect.

---

I cannot believe the worst of my problems used to be my hopeless crush on my friend. How I wish I could go back to those times.

---

I stare at the clock and then at Giselle. We make eye contact and she nods. I raise my hand and remind the teacher of our pass to leave class early today. Giselle and I are walking side-by-side in silence down the empty hall.

We enter the small auditorium and sit on the stage. We are the first ones there. Everything feels so surreal. It feels like a bad dream. I really wish it was. Soon enough, the rest of my small group is there. We all sit on the stage of the small auditorium. Connor reacher for my hand and grabs it. He squeezes. I squeeze back.

The bell rings and the clamour of dismissal begins. I suck in a deep breath and prepare myself for what’s to come.