You’ve Reached Sam: A Novel
You’ve Reached Sam: Chapter 4

The bell echoes down the empty hallway as I arrive late to school. I missed the bus this morning. Now I have to make an entrance to a class that’s already started, and draw more attention to myself. I consider skipping first period to avoid this altogether. But I’ve been absent for an entire week of school now, and I’m already here. I might as well get this over with, since I’ll have to face everyone sooner or later. At least I remembered to set my alarm yesterday. But I never planned to wake up in Sam’s bed and have to rush home.

Sam.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around last night. The phone call in the woods. Hearing his voice again. It was all real, wasn’t it? How else would I have ended up in his room? Only seven hours of this place, I remind myself. Then I can call him again. It’s all I can think about. It’s what’s keeping me together as I brace myself for the rest of the school day without him here.

I take a deep breath before I step through the door to first period. All heads turn slowly toward me as the room silences. Mr. White pauses his chalk on the board, and opens his bearded mouth as if he’s about to say something. But he looks away and continues his lecture, allowing me to go find my seat. As I slip between desks, no one makes eye contact with me. When I see the empty table by the window with two chairs, my heart stops. It’s where Sam and I usually sat together. But I don’t stall for too long because I sense people staring. I take another breath before I walk over and set my things down. I don’t look at anyone. I just stare at the front of the room and watch the minutes tick, tick away on the clock.

After class, everyone ignores me. No one asks how I’m doing or looks my way. I don’t know what I was expecting coming back. It’s hard not to let it bother me. Maybe they all noticed I wasn’t at the funeral. Maybe they think I’m some cold, heartless person who feels nothing after her boyfriend died. The rest of the day goes like this. Hallways grow silent as I walk through them, and whispers follow. But I keep my chin straight and pretend I don’t hear anything. I suddenly remember the photo Taylor took of me and wonder who she sent it to. Probably their senior group, everyone at the bonfire that night. I’m sure it made them feel better, seeing me like that. Thankfully I don’t have any classes with her or Liam. I’ve been trying hard to avoid those two all day. I even took the other stairs to avoid passing by their lockers.

At lunch I don’t know where to sit. I take my time placing food on my tray as I look around for Mika. I haven’t seen her all morning. Maybe she’s still taking time off from school. She hasn’t contacted me since we met at the diner yesterday. If only she knew what happened last night. After I called Sam and he picked up. But I can’t possibly tell her anything yet. Would Sam want me to? I should ask him before I make any decisions. If our phone calls are real, I don’t want to risk anything.

There are plenty of chairs open but nowhere to sit. I consider eating outside, but I feel everyone watching me. I don’t want them thinking I’m afraid to eat alone. I won’t be one of those girls who ends up hiding in a bathroom stall.

I search for an empty table in the back of the cafeteria. Something catches my eye. Behind a chair, rose jewels glitter along a white silk backpack. It belongs to my friend Yuki. Her smooth black hair flows down her back, long and beautiful. She is sitting by the window with two other exchange students—Rachel from Vietnam and Jay from Thailand. I head over and set down my tray.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Blinking eyes look up from cafeteria food and lunch boxes. Jay, who is a head taller than the rest of the table, removes his headphones and brushes his dark waves from his forehead. He’s wearing a striped blue baseball jersey he bought on his trip to Seattle.

“No—of course,” Rachel says. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail today. She moves her bag to make room for me. “Please join us.”

“Thank you,” I say.

Awkward smiles are exchanged as I take a seat between her and Jay. Yuki and I share a nod from across the table. We eat in silence. Usually, the three of them are bright with conversation. But there’s a weight at the table that keeps us quiet and somber.

Without saying anything, Jay slides a box of mango slices in front of me. A sympathy offering. I smile at him and take a slice. Then Jay pushes a bag of homemade cookies toward me, along with those mini green tea Kit Kats that he knows are my favorite. They’re his favorite, too. I try to push them back but he insists. “How about we split it,” he says. He’s always been sweet this way.

Rachel smiles at me. “We missed you, Julie,” she says. “We’ve been thinking about you. We’re glad to have lunch with you again.”

“And we miss Sam, too,” Jay says mournfully. “We’re really sorry … about what happened.”

The table goes silent again. Yuki’s eyes flash between me and Jay, as if she’s reading my reaction to Sam’s name. To make sure it’s okay to bring him up. It does feel strange to have them talk about him like this. Like I wasn’t on the phone with him last night.

“Sam was a great friend,” Yuki adds, nodding. She tries to smile. “To all of us. We’ll always remember him.”

“Always,” Rachel says.

It warms me to hear this, especially coming from Yuki. She knew Sam longer than the others. She lived with his family during the first year of her exchange program. Sam was the first person she met when she arrived in Ellensburg, and he showed her around. His mother hoped it would help him improve his Japanese. The day after the funeral, she stopped by my house to drop off soup and tea for me even though I ignored all her messages.

Jay and Rachel moved here a few months ago. It’s their first year in Washington. We have a few other international students. The ones from Europe are treated like royalty and get invited to all the parties. Yuki, Jay, and Rachel, on the other hand, have had a more difficult time finding their place. They get the alienation treatment, despite their fluency in English. No one makes the effort to talk to them like the French and German students, so they rely a lot on each other. The terrible thing is when people see them together all the time, they accuse them of isolating themselves from the rest of school. I never noticed this until Sam mentioned it to me. Sam told me his friends would refer to them as those Asians. When Sam finally said, “You know, I’m Asian, too,” one of his friends replied, “Yeah, but you’re … different.” Because Sam was born here and didn’t have an accent. Sam never said anything back. He just grabbed his things one day and moved to Yuki’s table, and I went with him. Now lunch feels empty without him here. Like something’s missing. I know the others sense it, too.

Jay passes me another Kit Kat and leans into me. “Let us know if you need anything,” he whispers. “We’re always here for you.”

I don’t know what else to say to everyone but “Thank you.” I poke at my salad with my fork as we continue to eat in silence. Much later, almost out of nowhere, I say to the table, “I think Sam would be happy to know what you guys said about him.” I know in my heart this is true. And I plan to tell him later.

At the end of school, I hurry to my locker to grab my things. I’m trying not to run into anyone. I just want to head home and call Sam as soon as I get to my room. It’s what we have planned. As I’m standing there, I sense someone behind me. There’s a tap on my shoulder.

“Julie?”

I turn around to meet dark green eyes. It’s Oliver, Sam’s best friend, standing a bit too close. He’s wearing his blue letterman jacket. His backpack hangs over a single shoulder.

“You’re really back…”

“Did you need something?”

“I wanted to say hi.”

“Oh. Hi,” I say quickly. I turn back to my locker and grab another book, hoping he’ll take the hint.

Oliver doesn’t move. “How have you been lately?”

“Fine.”

“Oh…” He waits for me to say more but I don’t. Maybe he was expecting a different answer. I’m not in the mood to have that conversation right now. Especially with him. But he keeps talking. “It’s been a real week, hasn’t it?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Oliver asks again.

“I said I’m fine.”

I don’t mean to be so rude. But Oliver and I have never been good friends, despite his relationship with Sam. There was always some tension between us I never completely understood. It always felt like the two of us were competing for Sam’s attention. There was a time when I wanted to get to know Oliver. Whenever we were together with Sam, I remember trying to start a conversation with him, but he’d always be short with me or pretended not to hear it. He would invite Sam somewhere and say there was no room in his car or spare ticket for me. So forgive me if I’m in no mood for a chat. Especially since Sam isn’t around anymore. I don’t have to be friendly. I don’t owe him anything.

Oliver was also one of the people there at the bonfire that night. Maybe that’s what he wants to talk about. I’m not looking for a confrontation right now. I shut my locker. “I have to go.”

“But I was hoping you and I could talk, or something,” he says somewhat tensely.

“I don’t really have time right now. Sorry.” I walk off without saying anything else.

“Wait—just for a second?”

I keep walking.

“Please,” Oliver calls after me. Something sharp and wounded in his voice cuts me, making me stop. “Please…” he says again, almost desperately this time. “I don’t really have anyone else to talk to.”

I turn around slowly. The two of us stand there, looking at each other as people walk right past us. Now that I’m looking at him, I can read the pain in his face. He lost Sam, too. Except he isn’t connected to him like I am. I step toward Oliver, closing the distance between us, and whisper, “Is it about Sam?”

Oliver nods. “Nobody else gets it,” he says. Then he leans into me. “Why did it have to happen to him, you know?”

I touch his shoulder and feel how tense he is. Like he’s holding something in. Neither of us say any more because we don’t need to. For the first time, it’s like we understand each other.

“I know…” I say.

“I’m really glad you’re back,” Oliver says. “It was weird not having you around, either.” Then out of nowhere, he puts his arms around me and hugs me tight. The leather of his jacket is soft against my cheek. I usually shy away from this sort of affection, but for this occasion, I allow it. We both lost somebody we loved. After a moment, Oliver pulls away and readjusts his backpack. “Is it okay if I text you sometime? Just to talk?”

“Of course you can.”

Oliver smiles. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I watch him disappear down the hall. It almost feels like we just met for the first time. It’s too early to say if Oliver and I might be friends after all of this, but at the very least, maybe things will be different.

At home, I find my mother’s car in the driveway. She’s in the kitchen washing dishes as I make my way inside. As soon as I close the door, I hear the faucet shut off, followed by my mother’s voice.

“Julie?” she calls from the kitchen. Before I can answer, she storms down the hall with a look relief on her face. “Where have you been all day?”

I take off my jacket. “I was at school. I thought I told you yesterday.”

“But why didn’t you answer my messages?” she asks.

“What messages?”

“I texted you last night. I even called.”

“You called me?” I don’t remember waking up to any notifications. The only person I’ve spoken to since last night was Sam. I check my phone again. “Are you sure? I never got anything from you.”

I hand her my phone to see for herself.

“Of course I’m sure,” she says, scrolling through it. “That’s so bizarre. I definitely texted you. Do you think it’s your phone? I guess it could be mine.”

“Maybe it’s the service.”

“Maybe…” my mother says, thinking. She hands me back my phone. “You know, no matter how smart they try to make these things, they never work.” She lets out a long breath.

“I’m sorry to worry you.”

“It’s alright,” my mother says. “I’m just glad you’re fine.” She takes my jacket from me, and hangs it on a hook on the wall. “Thankfully I noticed your backpack was gone this morning, so I figured you were at school. How late did you come home last night?”

“Oh—” My eyes shift to the floor. She doesn’t realize I never came home at all. “Not too late…” I say.

“You know, I could have given you a ride this morning.”

“I don’t really mind the walk.” I turn toward the stairs.

“Wait.” My mother stops me. “How was school? Is everything okay?”

I pause on the first step. “It was … fine,” I say without turning around.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Maybe not this second. I’m a little tired.”

My mother nods. “Alright. You know I’m always here, Julie,” she says as I head upstairs. “But we should get your phone checked out soon! Mine, too, now that I’m thinking about it. I’ve had a suspicion that someone’s been trying to hack it. It’s probably been tapped. Then again—what isn’t these days … They’re probably recording everything we’re saying right now. Be careful!”

“I will!”

I shut the door behind me and look around the room. Everything’s exactly like I left it. I returned this morning from Sam’s house to change and grab my things before school. That’s why I was late to class. I didn’t mean to spend the night in his room, but I was so exhausted, and Sam told me it was okay. I haven’t spoken with him since then. I sit at the side of my bed, and take out my phone. We made plans to talk after school once I got home. I remember making him promise me he’d pick up again. Otherwise, I couldn’t fall asleep. I stare at the blank screen of my phone. While this rational part of me keeps thinking last night was all a dream, I look over and see his plaid shirt hanging on the back of my chair. On my desk is the other bookend he gave me last night. His Radiohead shirt is folded and tucked away in the middle drawer. I checked a second ago to make sure it was still there.

I check my phone. For some reason, Sam’s number doesn’t appear in the call history. I noticed this in the morning when I woke up. It’s as if there’s no record that it happened. There’s no way this could be all in my head, could it? How else would I have known about the key under the mailbox? I guess there’s only one way to be sure. I take a deep breath and dial Sam’s number. The sound of the ringing makes me tense. But it only rings twice before he picks up.

“Julie…”

The knots in my chest undo themselves, and I breathe easily again. “Sam.”

“You still sound relieved to hear me,” he says with a laugh. The warmth of his voice pulls me back to the beginning and it’s … like before.

“Can you blame me?” I whisper, as if someone might hear us. “I don’t expect you to pick up.”

“But I promised I would, didn’t I?”

I swallow my breath, taking his voice in like air. “I know you did … And that’s why I called back. But you realize how crazy this is, right? You are supposed to be gone…”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

My stomach hardens. I can’t tell if he’s being serious. He has to know what happened that night one week ago, right? The bonfire. The missed calls. The headlights on the road. There’s no possible way he and I should be talking on the phone again. I’m almost afraid to ask this. But I have to know. The words are heavy in my throat. “You died, Sam … You know that, don’t you?”

There’s a long silence before he answers.

Sam lets out a breath. “Yeah I know … I’m still processing it.”

A chill goes through me. A part of me wanted to hear a different answer. Something that could bring him back to me. “So am I imagining all of this?”

“You’re not imagining anything, Julie. I promise, okay?”

Another promise. Without an explanation. I grip the phone tight, trying to keep it together. “I still don’t understand how this is possible. How are we talking to each other?”

Sam goes quiet again. I move the phone to the other ear, waiting for his answer. “Honestly, Jules, I don’t really know,” he says. “All I know is that you called me and I picked up. And now we’re connected again.”

“It can’t be that simple, though—” I start.

“But why can’t it be?” Sam asks me. “I know this doesn’t really make sense right now. But, maybe we don’t need to complicate it with questions we don’t know the answers to. Maybe we can just enjoy this chance for what it is. For as long as we have it.”

I glance at the walls, thinking this over. Another chance. To be connected again. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is a gift or a glitch in the universe. Something far outside the realm of our understanding. I remember something from last night. “When I was outside the café, you said something else. You said you wanted to give us a second chance at good-bye. You said that’s why you picked up. Did you mean that?”

Sam takes his time to answer this. “At some point, I think we both need to say it. But you don’t have to worry about that right now, okay?”

“So … until then, I can still call you?”

“Of course. Whenever you need me.”

“And you promise to pick up?”

“Always.”

Always.

I close my eyes and take this all in. It doesn’t take long for my mind to drift back to before. Before everything changed and all the plans we made were still in place. Before Sam died and I could reach out to touch him and know he’s there. Before everything was taken from us. On the other line, I sense Sam is doing the same. When I open my eyes, I find myself alone in my room. As I think of Sam, and this second chance we have, a question comes to me. I know I asked this before, but he never gave me an answer. “Where are you, Sam?”

“Somewhere,” he answers vaguely.

“Where?”

“I can’t really say. At least, not right now.”

For some reason, I sense I shouldn’t push him on this. “Is it anywhere I’ve been?”

“I don’t think so…”

I try to listen to the sounds on his end. But I can’t hear anything else.

“Can you at least tell me what you see?”

He takes a moment. “An endless sky.”

I look over to the window. The curtain is partly drawn, so I walk over and pull it out of the way. The window is already unlatched when I push it open, letting a breeze roll in as I look out past the roofs of the houses, beyond the tops of the distant hills, and out toward the sky. I feel Sam listening. I ask him, “Are we looking at the same one?”

“Maybe. I’m not entirely sure.”

“I’m guessing this is all you can tell me.”

“For now, at least. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say to ease him. “I’m just glad you picked up the phone.”

“I’m glad you called me,” he says. “Thought I’d never hear from you again.”

Tears form behind my eyes. “I thought I lost you forever. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. I missed you infinity.”

I don’t question him further on what’s happening. At least, not right now. I just take this for whatever it is, and breathe in this impossibility of being reconnected to someone I thought I lost, no matter how ridiculous it seems. The rest of our phone call goes on like a daydream, as I continue to question what is real and what isn’t. I’m wondering if any of it matters. We talk about ordinary things, and it feels like old times again. I tell him what Yuki and the others said at lunch. I tell him about the rest of my day at school, like my conversation with Oliver. Seems like something from my imagination, but there are things I can’t explain. It would be easier to tell myself none of this is real, but then I see the physical objects in the room that shouldn’t be there. The shirt, the bracelets, the other bookend. How could I have gotten these if he hadn’t told me where the spare key was?

Questions fill my mind, but I push them aside for now and allow myself to live in this beautiful strange rabbit hole I’ve fallen into. I don’t care how any of this is possible. I have Sam back. I don’t want to let him go.

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