Maybe you’d think that would be a relief. Better than having my name dragged through the mud again, right? But, no. It felt worse. So much worse. At least when people hated me, they heard me. They didn’t believe me, but my voice was out there. They tried so hard to stamp it out, to silence me, but I’d kept yelling.
Until I just couldn’t do it anymore.
But in this book, it’s as if I didn’t exist. As if that day didn’t even happen to me. I’d rather have my name smeared all over those pages, to be condemned as some kind of devil-worshipping monster, than to have Sarah’s parents tell her story as if I don’t exist. As if nothing that I said, nothing that I survived, even registered with them at all.
I had no idea I’d feel that way until I read that book, until I threw it across my dorm room so hard that it bounced off the wall with a loud thud. I thought I’d been telling Lee the truth when I said I wanted to move on, that I didn’t want my name or my story or anything out there. And I still felt that way. Still felt like the truth would bring me nothing but pain that I’d been fighting so hard to put behind me. If I had tried to speak up when she asked, tried to write one of her stupid letters, it just would have gotten me the same abuse I’d dealt with four years ago.
But there I was, being ignored, forgotten, pushed out of my own story entirely. And damn if that didn’t hurt just as much.
I didn’t know what I wanted.
I still don’t know what I want.
For a long time, I just sat on my bed, staring at the book where it lay on my floor. And it was only then that I remembered that USB drive Lee had given me months ago, on her way to California. I’d actually managed to forget for a while. I hadn’t wanted anything to do with it before, but all of a sudden, I had to know what was on there. I had to read another version of this story.
So I dug it out, plugged it into my computer, and read everything Lee had compiled: her long letter, interspersed with shorter letters from the others. Stories I hadn’t known. Stories from that day and the days, weeks, years that had followed.
Lee said I could do whatever I wanted with it. Write my own story, try to release it to the public, or just destroy the damn thing. Hell, I still have no idea which of those is the best choice.
But … screw it. Whatever. I don’t know that it matters. I don’t know if I’ll ever let anyone else see this, but I can’t get this stupid letter thing out of my head. It’s been nearly a month since I opened the file she gave me, and I’ve opened it a dozen times since. And it’s just going to keep driving me crazy until I write this down so … here you go. Here’s my story.
***
I spent a lot of time in that particular bathroom. Always skipping class. Sometimes smoking. Ihatedschool. I was that cliché angry girl with no friends and a great pair of combat boots. So I hid in a place where I could interact with as few people as possible. Boy, did that bite me in the ass.
So March 15, I was in the bathroom, as usual. I’d been in there, smoking in the corner so no one passing by would see, for most of the period. I’d told my geometry teacher I was feeling sick. I don’t think she believed me, but she let me go anyway. I’m sure she disliked me just as much as I disliked her. I’d been in there alone all period, until Ashley Chambers walked in.
I knew Ashley. She was the kind of self-righteous Christian that I hated. The kind who acted like you had to do things her way or you were headed straight to hell. She was the reason I stayed away from things like the Fellowship of Christian Students. Well, that and my general disdain for most people. I know Lee says she’s better now, and Ashley might have apologized to me in that email, but whatever. I’m not the forgiving sort.
Anyway, she didn’t see me when she came in the bathroom. She was clearly distracted or else she would have noticed the smell of my cigarette. I was relieved. I didn’t want to deal with her. So I pressed closer into the corner, hoping she’d leave without even acknowledging me.
But before she came out of the stall, two more girls hurried in. Freshmen freaking out about a hickey. They did notice me, and I expected them to give me a lecture about how I was breaking the rules. They looked like the kind of girls who would. But they didn’t.
I didn’t know Lee Bauer or Sarah McHale at the time. I mean, I knew their faces. Small school and all. But they were two years behind me and we didn’t have any classes together, so I didn’t know anything about them. Other than that, apparently, Sarah’s getting a hickey was the end of the world and her parents were uptight, overprotective jerks.
I wasn’t really paying attention to them until Ashley walked out of the bathroom stall and started pulling her holier-than-thou crap.
“Who needs Jesus when you have boys that’ll suck on your neck?”
I rolled my eyes. It was so obvious she was jealous because no one wanted to make out with her. Not that I was one to judge. At sixteen, I still hadn’t been kissed. Pretty much all the guys at VCHS thought I was scary, and I thought they were annoying. So no loss there, I guess. But still. Ashley’s bitterness was so apparent it might as well have been written across her forehead.
By the time she noticed me, all of her snark had been used up on Sarah. She glared and I glared back and then she left.
“Someone needs to tell her that Jesus likes nice people,” Sarah said.
Despite myself, I laughed. And I remember that she turned and grinned at me. Like I was in on the joke. People at school didn’t look at me like that very often. But, I don’t know, it was nice. For a second I thought that maybe Sarah McHale was kind of cool. One of the few people in this school I didn’t despise.
The irony.
I glanced down at my watch—this clunky old thing that used to belong to my grandfather—and realized the bell was about to ring. I finished off my cigarette and tossed the butt into the nearest toilet, flushed, and headed toward the bathroom door.
That’s when the world changed.
I heard the gunshots. It only took me a second to know what I was hearing. The screams made it abundantly clear. In some ways, I think I’d been expecting it. That sounds weird. But we’d been doing lockdown drills since I was in elementary school. I don’t remember a time when I truly believed school was safe.
I’ve read the other letters. I know that everyone else was surprised or in shock. Maybe I’m just a pessimist or maybe I watched too many true crime documentaries. Either way, I knew it was an active shooter situation immediately. And I knew I didn’t have time to get into a classroom before the school went into lockdown. So I ran back into the bathroom.
Lee and Sarah were in the doorway, and I shoved them inside. “Hide,” I remember snapping.
