All That’s Left to Say by Emery Lord EPUB & PDF

All That’s Left to Say by Emery Lord EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

• Status: Available for Free Download
• Author: Emery Lord
• Language: English
• Genre: Teen & Young Adult Fiction about Death
• Format: PDF / EPUB
• Size: 2 MB
• Price: Free

MAY
Senior Year
This is my third time in the Head of School’s office. Once, for a parent
meeting before I officially enrolled. The essay incident—a
misunderstanding, of course. And now, awaiting my fate on senior prom
night.

I sit facing the desk, centered at a large window and framed by plaid
curtains. The office doesn’t have a globe, but it looks like the type that
would. From somewhere I cannot see, an analog clock ticks away. I pace an
inhale for four beats and hold it for the same count. My lungs ache or
maybe my heart does—it’s hard to tell anymore.
Somewhere, the Head of School is probably behind the wheel of her
car, closing the distance between the Fairchild Hotel and her office. Cursing
me, maybe, though I don’t know her well enough to guess. Her first name is
Elizabeth; she wears a wedding band. Does she live in a sleek apartment or
a big old house? Does she host wine nights and do plucky group fitness
classes with friends? Has anything ever rearranged her entire life and sense
of self, the way this year has for me?

The door opens behind me, but it’s only the freshman chem teacher
tasked with ferrying me from the prom to the school for my sentencing. She
hands me a school-issued gym towel, coarse and white. “Shouldn’t be much
longer. You need the restroom or anything?”
“No, thank you.” I dab my hair, which has dried stringy by now. My
gown sticks to every part of me, though the black fabric hides it well.
“I tried your mom’s cell phone …” the teacher says tentatively.
“Yeah, she’s at a show.” Another would-be special memory that I’ve
ruined tonight. “I’m sure she’ll call back soon. Sorry in advance about
that.”

“Okay, then.” What else can this teacher say? Not “I’m sorry”—this
was my fault. Not “It’ll be okay”—it might not. So she smiles wanly, and
then I’m alone again.
The sweaty, shivery feeling of dread shoots through me. I haven’t had
enough time to process the events of tonight, to study my game board for
moves. How much will I reveal to the Head of School?
I imagine my classmates, outside of this place, like dots on a scatter
graph. Going home to shed their formalwear, maybe off to house parties.
Some will come here to the school for After Prom. Everywhere, I’ll be the
central gossip. Did anyone film the fight or did it happen too quickly?
Closing my eyes, I can see my own view of it.

The entire senior class was huddled in the hotel parking lot, ears still
ringing from the fire alarm. We’d evacuated into a misty rain, tux jackets
held over smooth blowouts and careful curls.

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