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day. Not among students, teachers, or any other faculty. The scale of tragedy was too grand, the loss of loved ones too great.
    Parents marched into the gym on an endless parade, swallowing their kids up in hugs and tears and uncertainty.
    From what I had heard, making phone calls had become nearly impossible, and for a lot of people, locating loved ones was no longer a right but a luxury.
    It was no different for Blane. I hadn’t spoken to him directly since he left the classroom at a run, but his face wasn’t one of someone who knew. He hadn’t been in contact with his father, and conversely, he had no confirmation that he no longer would be able to. No one knew anything, and I feared that with the scale of this event, it would be much too long before they did.
    He stood across the gym, his normally tan skin pale and clammy looking, and stared at a spot on the basketball court, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs crossed at the ankles. His gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t search the room for people he knew. He didn’t watch while people got good or bad news.
    His world lived completely in his mind, and I couldn’t see inside.
    I lifted my head at the sound of the gym door swinging open and watched as Blane’s petite mother hurried inside.
    Emily was always put together, not because she had to be to impress Blane or his dad, but because she wanted to be the best version of herself.
    And today, to the untrained eye, she was no different. But I could see the blotch of her pale skin and the evidence of over-tucking at the hair behind her ears.
    She’d tried to clean up her face, and as far as her makeup went, she’d done a good job. But I knew her too well. This was not how Emily Hunt normally looked—anchored and full of purpose.
    No, today, she looked lost.
    She headed straight for Blane, who’s gaze stayed fixed ahead, unaware of her presence.
    That is, until she called his name.
    I was too far away to hear the sound, but I watched as her lips formed each word, his eyes locked on hers.
    “What are we going to do?” A sob opened her mouth wide until she regained control. “Oh God, Blane, he’s gone.”
    I knew she didn’t know that for a fact, but the forceful feeling in her gut transferred straight to mine like a wire was running between them.
    I’ve heard people say that a true connection with someone else goes beyond the reasonable. It goes beyond science and fact, and instead, takes root in the connection of your souls.
    The look on Emily’s face was all the proof I needed to believe in such a fantasy.
    She didn’t just look tortured. She looked incomplete . As though a piece of her beautiful soul had wilted at the loss of his.
    The other man in her life stepped up with no hesitation.
    As Blane became the man of his house, tucking his mother into the crook of his arm to give her comfort, I closed my eyes and once again, cried silent tears.
    I mourned the loss of William Hunt, a man who had not only welcomed me into his home, but raised a son who welcomed me into his life when I had no one.
    A life full of ambition and self-worth, but completely devoid of friendship.
    I hadn’t even known I’d wanted anyone to be a part of it until him.
    My blurry eyes opened just in time to watch Blane walking his mother out of the gym still tucked under his arm.
    Emily needed him to be there for her.
    But who was there for him?
    I hated that in a time when we would have—should have—had each other, we were all alone.
    And I hated that despite our distance, I could still see him suffering.
    But most of all, I hated that hate won out over love as the stronger emotion once again. On a day filled with hate, literally stamped in the history books with the makings of it, I let it win yet another battle.
    Oh, yeah. And I loathed terrorists.
    Most people describe September eleventh as the day that tilted their normal world on its axis. But what about the people whose lives were already leaning?

I DIDN’T GO TO