“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. It’s always so nice to see you.”
I swallowed, knowing she might not feel that way for long.
“We were just getting cleaned up for dinner,” she said. “Do you want to join us? We’re having tuna noodle casserole.”
“Oh, thank you, but I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Nonsense.” Chad rounded the corner into the living room. His hair and beard were thick and almost completely gray now. He gave me a warm, genuine smile, and my chest filled with dread. “Ruth always makes too much when she cooks. We’ll be eating leftover casserole for days if you don’t help us out.”
I glanced back at the door, wishing I’d come an hour later. Maybe two. I couldn’t eat dinner with them. I couldn’t sit down at their table, eat their food, then tell them everything they believed about their daughter’s final moments was a lie.
But Ruth had already looped an arm around my shoulders and was steering me into the dining room while Chad went to grab the casserole. “How have you been, Leanne?” she asked as she pushed me gently into a seat—my usual seat, the seat I’d sat in a million times over the years. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s fine,” I said. “She’s one of the managers at the Dollar Market now. It keeps her pretty busy.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Ruth said. “And what about you? Prom’s around the corner, isn’t it? Going with anyone?”
“Um, I’m not sure. Probably not.”
“Well, that’s okay. Boys are overrated, anyway.”
“I heard that!” Chad called from the kitchen.
Ruth smiled. “Are you still doing theater? Chad and I were so sad we missed you in that play last year. What was it?Arsenic and Old Lace? It sounded like you were a real star. We read all about it in the local paper. Are you going to be in any more plays this semester?”
I chewed my lip. “No. I’ve been too busy.”
That was a lie. The real reason I’d decided not to do any more theater in Virgil County was that newspaper article Ruth was talking about. This had just been a small drama club production. We didn’t have any funding, so there weren’t even real sets. Still, a reporter from the local paper showed up at the performance. Instead of writing about the show, though, the whole article became about me.
Specifically, about how wonderful it was to see one of the shooting survivors onstage, even if it was in a play about old ladies committing murder. The other cast members weren’t even mentioned. Heck, theplaywas barely mentioned. The whole article was essentially a retrospective on the shooting.
I fell in love with acting because it gives me the chance to be someone else. To sink into a new persona and let Lee Bauer disappear for a while. But that was never going to happen on any stage in Virgil County.
Hopefully things will be different outside of this town. Hopefully when I’m across the country, somewhere where my name isn’t so recognizable, I’ll be able to do what I want: be another person for eight performances a week without people focusing on what happened to me when I was fourteen.
“Oh, I’m sure. I know how busy senior year can be. Do you have big college plans?”
I nodded. “I’m heading to California,” I said. “I’m going to study acting, actually.”
“So you mean we’ll know a movie star?” Chad asked as he stepped into the room with the casserole dish. “Promise you’ll remember us little people when you’re all famous, okay?”
I forced a smile. “I’m really more of a stage person,” I said. “I don’t really want to be famous. Just … to act.”
“Oh, thetheater!” Ruth said teasingly as she squeezed my arm across the table. “That’ll be wonderful. But why California? Isn’t New York the place to be for stage?”
“I mean, yeah. But there’s theater in LA, too. And I got into an acting program out there, so …” I shrugged.
It was the truth, but only half of it. I had gotten into a good acting program out west, and there were teachers there I was excited to study with. But that wasn’t my only reason. New York City had been Sarah’s dream. She wanted to walk the runway at Fashion Week, even though she was five foot three, and only if you rounded up. I knew it was irrational, but going to Manhattan without her would have felt like a betrayal.
“Well, movies or not, we’ll still be demanding your autograph,” Chad assured me. “Leanne Bauer will always be an A-list celebrity in our eyes.”
Ten minutes later, I was picking at my casserole without having taken a bite. Ruth and Chad didn’t seem to notice, or if they had, they weren’t going to draw attention to it. Instead, they were talking to each other, mostly about their friends and upcoming church events. And they didn’t ask me any questions that required more than a yes or no. Which was good. Because I was still trying to figure out how to broach the subject of the book.
But then, they did it for me.
“Oh, before I forget,” Ruth said, “I’m sure you heard our good news, right? That we’re writing a book about Sarah?”
“I did,” I said. My hands were shaking. I dropped my fork on the table and folded them in my lap. “About that—”
