When I hear that she’s dead, I run.
I hear it from the girls in the locker room. It threads through their conversations so carelessly, did you hear a girl from Leesboro died weaving through talk of which girl gave a blow job to Jack Morris behind the bleachers and who’s going to Matt’s party this weekend.
The thread of it snags in my gut, because Leesboro was Maggie’s school.
It’s not her, I tell myself. It can’t be her or someone would have told me; her brother would have called me; someone-
But she didn’t answer her phone this morning.
And last night she didn’t text me good night, and I brushed it off because she’s tired from training, we’re seniors and we’re all so goddamned tired-
But I have to know.