Looking for Alaska

\"I don't know what to do, Miles.\" \"Yeah. I know.\" \"I finished memorizing the capitals,\"he said. \"Of the states?\" \"No. That was fifth grade. Of thecountries. Name a country.\" \"Canada,\" I said. \"Something hard.\" \"Urn. Uzbekistan?\" \"Tashkent.\" He didn't even take amoment to think. It was just there, at thetip of his tongue, as if he'd been waitingfor me to say \"Uzbekistan\" all along.\"Let's smoke.\" We walked to the bathroom andturned on the shower, and the Colonelpulled a pack of matches from his jeans

and struck a match against thematchbook. It didn't light. Again, he triedand failed, and again, smacking at thematchbook with a crescendoing furyuntil he finally threw the matches to theground and screamed, \"GODDAMN IT!\" \"It's okay,\" I said, reaching into mypocket for a lighter. \"No, Pudge, it's not,\" he said,throwing down his cigarette and standingup, suddenly pissed. \"Goddamn it! God,how did this happen? How could she beso stupid! She just never thoughtanything through. So goddamnedimpulsive. Christ. It is not okay. I can'tbelieve she was so stupid!\" \"We should have stopped her,\" Isaid.

He reached into the stall to turn offthe dribbling shower and then poundedan open palm against the tile wall. \"Yeah, I know we should havestopped her, damn it. I am shit surekeenly aware that we should havestopped her. But we shouldn't have had to. Youhad to watch her like a three-year-old.You do one thing wrong, and then shejust dies. Christ! I'm losing it. I'm goingon a walk.\" \"Okay,\" I answered, trying to keepmy voice calm. \"I'm sorry,\" he said. \"I feel soscrewed up. I feel like I might die.\" \"You might,\" I said. \"Yeah. Yeah. I might. You never

know. It's just. It's like. POOF. Andyou're gone.\" I followed him into the room. Hegrabbed the almanac from his bunk,zipped his jacket, closed the door, andPOOF. He was gone. With morning came visitors. An hourafter the Colonel left, resident stonerHank Walsten dropped by to offer mesome weed, which I graciously turneddown. Hank hugged me and said, \"Atleast it was instant. At least there wasn'tany pain.\" I knew he was only trying to help,but he didn't get it. There was pain. Adull endless pain in my gut that wouldn'tgo away even when I knelt on thestingingly frozen tile of the bathroom,

dry-heaving.And what is an \"instant\" deathanyway? How long is an instant? Is itone second? Ten? The pain of thoseseconds must have been awful as herheart burst and her lungs collapsed andthere was no air and no blood to herbrain and only raw panic. What the helli s instant? Nothing is instant. Instantrice takes five minutes, instant puddingan hour. I doubt that an instant ofblinding pain feels particularlyinstantaneous.Was there time for her life to flashbefore her eyes? Was I there? Was Jake?And she promised, I remembered, shepromised to be continued, but I knew,too, that she was driving north when she

died, north toward Nashville, towardJake. Maybe it hadn't meant anything toher, had been nothing more than anothergrand impulsivity. And as Hank stood inthe doorway, I just looked past him,looking across the too-quiet dorm circle,wondering if it had mattered to her, and Ican only tell myself that of course, yes,she had promised. To be continued. Lara came next, her eyes heavy withswelling. \"What happeened?\" she askedme as I held her, standing on my tiptoesso I could place my chin on top of herhead. \"I don't know,\" I said. \"Deed you see her that night?\" sheasked, speaking into my collarbone. \"She got drunk,\" I told her. \"The

Colonel and I went to sleep, and I guessshe drove off campus.\" And that becamethe standard lie. I felt Lara's fingers, wet with hertears, press against my palm, and beforeI could think better of it, I pulled myhand away. \"I'm sorry,\" I said. \"Eet's okay,\" she said. \"I'll be eenmy room eef you want to come by.\" I didnot drop by. I didn't know what to say toher — I was caught in a love trianglewith one dead side. That afternoon, we all filed into thegym again for a town meeting. The Eagleannounced that the school would chartera bus on Sunday to the funeral in VineStation. As we got up to leave, I noticedTakumi and Lara walking toward me.

Lara caught my eye and smiled wanly. Ismiled back, but quickly turned and hidmyself amid the mass of mourners filingout of the gym. I am sleeping, and Alaska flies intothe room. She is naked, and intact. Herbreasts, which I felt only very brieflyand in the dark, are luminously full asthey hang down from her body. Shehovers inches above me, her breathwarm and sweet against my face like abreeze passing through tall grass. \"Hi,\" I say. \"I've missed you.\" \"You look good, Pudge.\" \"So do you.\" \"I'm so naked,\" she says, and laughs.\"How did I get so naked?\" \"I just want you to stay,\" I say.

\"No,\" she says, and her weight fallsdead on me, crushing my chest, stealingaway my breath, and she is cold andwet, like melting ice. Her head is split inhalf and a pink-gray sludge oozes fromthe fracture in her skull and drips downonto my face, and she stinks offormaldehyde and rotting meat. I gag andpush her off me, terrified. I woke up falling, and landed with athud on the floor. Thank God I'm abottom-bunk man. I had slept forfourteen hours. It was morning.Wednesday, I thought. Her funeralSunday. I wondered if the Colonelwould get back by then, where he was.H e had to come back for the funeral,because I could not go alone, and going

with anyone other than the Colonelwould amount to alone. The cold wind buffeted against thedoor, and the trees outside the backwindow shook with such force that Icould hear it from our room, and I sat inmy bed and thought of the Colonel outthere somewhere, his head down, histeeth clenched, walking into the wind. four days after It was five in the morning and I wasreading a biography of the explorerMeriwether Lewis (of & Clark fame)and trying to stay awake when the dooropened and the Colonel walked in. His pale hands shook, and the

almanac he held looked like a puppetdancing without strings. \"Are you cold?\" I asked. He nodded, slipped off his sneakers,and climbed into my bed on the bottombunk, pulling up the covers. His teethchattered like Morse code. \"Jesus. Are you all right?\" \"Better now. Warmer,\" he said. Asmall, ghost white hand appeared frombeneath the comforter. \"Hold my hand,will ya?\" \"All right, but that's it. No kissing.\"The quilt shook with his laughter. \"Where have you been?\" \"I walked to Montevallo.\" \"Forty miles?!\"