Rosi Martinez
Sarah McHale
Richard McMullen
Thomas Nolan
Aiden Stroud
Essie Taylor
And beneath their names was a quote from Emily Dickinson:“Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.”
I hated that quote, because it was a lie. Even if love were immortality, I couldn’t help thinking that eventually everyone who loved you would be dead, too. And then what did any of it matter? It didn’t. Quotes like those were just there to make the living feel better. Another way to help us ignore the fact that oblivion was inevitable.
I shook my head, trying to quiet the intrusive thoughts. But I couldn’t bring myself to turn away from the plaque.
The shooter hadn’t been listed among the dead. He wasn’t named on any of the other memorials around town, either. From what I’d gathered, that had been a heated controversy over the summer. There were people who had suggested including him. He was just a kid, after all. Sixteen, a junior. In some ways, they argued, he was a victim, too. A victim of bullying, of his own brain, of a gun-obsessed society. As if any of that mattered. This was theone thingthat wasn’t about him or why he did it. This was about everyone else, about the damage he had done.
Several of the parents had objected, and I was glad. I didn’t want his name up there. I didn’t want it anywhere near Sarah’s.
“Lee,” a voice said behind me. I looked over my shoulder and found Miles, dressed in his usual black T-shirt and worn-out jeans. For a second, we just stared at each other. Despite everything that had happened over the summer, it felt odd to talk to him on school grounds. It was the sign I’d been waiting for, the one that proved just how different things were now.
After a second, he shrugged and gestured for me to follow him. We wound our way through the packs of students, over to the side of the cafeteria, where Eden Martinez and Denny Lucas stood with their backs against the wall. Eden had a hand in her hair, pulling at the dark, wavy strands, and she looked a little green, like she was on the verge of being sick. Denny still had a cane then, and he was clutching the rubber grip at the top with both hands, like he was ready to use it as a weapon if he had to.
“Lee and Miles coming up on your right,” Eden told him.
“Hey, guys,” Denny said. “Weird day, huh?”
“The weirdest,” I said.
And maybe the strangest part was standing with those three. We were an odd group with almost nothing in common. Eden was a year ahead of Denny, Miles, and me. And before the shooting, we’d all hung out in very different cliques. But they were the only people Icouldbe with. The only group I really felt a part of anymore.
Ashley had graduated in May, finishing most of her classes from the hospital and at home. She’d sent us all a text message that morning, wishing us luck and letting us know we could call if we needed anything. I wondered if she felt lonely, if she wished she could be there with us instead of just watching brief news clips of us walking back into the school. Or maybe she was glad she never had to return. I wondered how I would feel in her position, as the only one of us not returning to VCHS.
Or, not theonlyone.
I glanced around, looking for a flash of blue-black hair or a skull-patterned backpack.
“Who’re you looking for?” Miles asked.
“Kellie,” I said.
“Kellie Gaynor?” Eden asked. “You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
“She moved.” Eden lowered her hand from her hair and began picking at her fingernails instead. “Her whole family did. My abuela saw them packing up a van a few days ago, and now there’s a For Sale sign in front of their house.”
“What?” The word came out as a cough. My throat felt tight all of a sudden. The way it does after I’ve been stung by a bee, before Mom gets out the EpiPen. I tried to breathe through it, but overhead, the bell rang, sharp and loud, startling all four of us. Which didn’t help.
As swarms of students flooded past us, heading to their classrooms, I reached out and grabbed hold of Eden’s arm. She jerked back at first, curling in on herself. Then we both mouthed quick apologies.
None of us like to be touched without warning, even by our friends. It was worse back then. Any sudden movement felt like a threat. We all had to learn how to be careful with one another.
When the ringing had died down, I managed to squeeze out a few words. “Kellie … Kellie is … ?”
“She’s gone.”
