I let out a long breath. I was sure Denny was right—if anyone should know, it was the officer who had investigated the shooting—but he was also one of the last people I wanted to see. He entered my life during its darkest days, when I was barely sleeping, having frequent panic attacks, and still trying to find the right dose of medication. I’ve come a long way since then, but I still feel like I’m walking along a tightrope. One misstep, one wrong move, and I could go spiraling back to where I was three years ago.
Denny couldn’t read my mind the way Miles could, but it didn’t take a telepath to know what I must’ve been thinking in that moment. I’m sure all of us associated Detective Jenner with the same thing. He was a nice enough man, but none of us were eager to see him ever again.
Still, Denny said, “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have—”
“I know I don’t have to,” he said. “But I will. We can go after school later this week. I’ll make up an excuse for my parents.”
Glitter darted toward us then, slobbery tennis ball in her mouth. She dropped it at my feet, then hopped up, putting her front paws on my knees and licking my cheek. As if to say,And I’ll come, too.
Despite myself, I laughed.
“Okay,” I said, scratching her ears. “Thank you.” Then, as she departed from my lap and did another loop around the yard, I reached over and put a hand on Denny’s shoulder. “Really. Thank you. You’re a good friend.”
“Oh, I know,” he said. “I’m the best.”
I’m realizing that I’ve said a lot about Sarah and almost nothing about the other victims. Which doesn’t make me much better than the media. There was so much coverage about Sarah, but the other people who died were pretty much forgotten within a few weeks. They quickly became the unnamed dead, just part of the “nine killed.”
But just like I knew Sarah, I knew these people, too. Maybe not as well. Some only by name. But they were people. Kids, most of them. And their deaths mattered just as much as hers, even if they didn’t allegedly die as martyrs for their faith.
So I’m going to try and fix that as best I can, with a little bit of help from the other survivors, who knew some of these people better than I did.
I guess I should start with Ms. Taylor.
Ms. Taylor was the first person killed on March 15.
I didn’t actually know her very well. I saw her in the hallway on my way to class every morning. She was young, only twenty-three, and very pretty with golden-blond hair that fell in loose waves to her shoulders. I remember that she always seemed to wear floral patterns, always in bright, warm colors—reds and oranges and pinks. I planned on taking her class the following year, since I’d need an elective and shop really wasn’t my thing.
Obviously, I never got that chance.
So, since I didn’t know her that well, I emailed Denny and asked if he’d write something for this.
Hey, Lee—
So you want to know more about Ms. Taylor? Let’s see …
Well, I could start with the first day of freshman year. My first day of high school and her first day of teaching. I wasn’t in her class yet, that was the next semester, but I was already a computer nerd. So during lunch, Jared and I had skipped the pizza line to go and investigate the computer lab instead.
Ms. Taylor was in there, of course. She introduced herself when we walked in and gave us permission to use one of the computers.
“Ah, man,” Jared said. “They’re all old. Just like the dinosaurs at the middle school. I was hoping for something better.”
“That sucks,” I said.
“If the school wouldn’t spend so much freaking money on football, they could afford better computers.”
“You’re just mad you didn’t make the team.”
“Shut up,” he huffed. “Besides, it’s fine. Bomb Shelter Four comes out next month and I’ll need the extra hours to play.”
I mostly just sat there while Jared fiddled with the computer. None of them had screen-reader software installed yet. The school wouldn’t even bother until I had a class where it was necessary. That’s how they’d always been. Only accommodating when they absolutely had to.
But then Ms. Taylor was standing beside me. I knew because she said, “Denny, this is Ms. Taylor on your left.”
“Hey, Teach.”
“Mind if I talk to you for a minute?”
