Syd gives me an encouraging grin.
“I wasn’t thinking you were going to have a relapse, Lara, honey,” Mom says. “You’ve made such good progress. I just … don’t want you to be upset.”
I try to imagine how I’ll feel if Bree and I actually come face-to-face — like if we bump into each other randomly in the crowd. Will I ask her why, or just act like nothing ever happened because what’s the point? Will I say hello or walk straight by her like we never met?
Until it happens, I’m not sure how I’ll react. Maybe today’s the day I’ll find out. Or maybe not.
When we get to school, my parents and Syd go to sit in the stands, and I head down to the sidelines to meet the rest of the squad. We start doing crowd warm-ups, even though the stands are still half-empty and not everyone on the team is here yet. It gets people psyched up, and moving keeps us warm.
Mom and Dad are sitting together, but Syd’s not with them. She’s sitting in a different section a few rows down with Liam. They seem relaxed together, and happy. Even if their relationship doesn’t last, at least something kind of good has come out of this whole mess. For that, I am grateful.
But as much as I try to be happy for them, it only reminds me of my loneliness. I’ve been too afraid to get involved with anyone since Christian, too scared to trust people, even the ones I can see right in front of me.
Knowing that Liam’s here, I can’t help turning around and glancing at the opposite sidelines to see if the West Lake dance team is there. They are, and they’re wearing black-and-silver track suits. But I can’t pick her out.
Maybe she didn’t come. Maybe she couldn’t face being back here.
I could understand that. People might have moved on, but they haven’t forgotten.
Luis and Julisa wave to me from the stands. They’ve been so supportive of me. I couldn’t ask for better friends.
“See you at halftime, after the show!” Julisa shouts.
I give her a thumbs-up and wave my pom-poms in their direction.
Luis smiles and shouts, “Cheer hard!” Ever since he remembered about the tulips, I’ve started noticing little things about him. Like what a great smile he has, and how even though he and Julisa might bicker about little things, he always sticks up for her.
When the game starts, I don’t know if it’s because I think Bree might be there, but I cheer even louder, kick even higher, and smile even bigger than I normally do. I want to show everyone that Lara Kelley is doing just fine. Lara Kelley didn’t let this destroy her — even though she almost did at first.
We’re up 14–7 at halftime, when the West Lake band, their cheerleaders, and the dance team take the field. I search for Bree, and I think maybe I spot her. I have to admit, their routine is pretty good.
Then it’s our turn and, for the first time in a while, I’m really nervous to perform. It’s the halftime show. All eyes on us. And I don’t want to mess up any tumbles or do the slightest thing wrong, because Bree might take it as a sign that she damaged me in some way. That somehow she won. But then, as I think that, I see myself sitting in Linda’s office. Hear her telling me that’s an unproductive thought that I need to learn how to toss.
So I pretend it’s a piece of paper and mentally throw it in a pretend garbage can as the band starts up. Taking a deep breath, I just let my muscle memory take over and do what we’ve been practicing over and over.
It’s all good.
Luis and Julisa meet me on the sidelines when we come off the field.
“You hungry?” Luis asks. “I’ll buy you a wrap.”
“Sure,” I say.
“What about me?” Julisa complains. “Are you buying me a wrap?”
He looks at her like she’s crazy. “You’re my sister,” he says. “Buy your own wrap!”
“Oh, come on,” I tell him. “Be a good twin and get one for Julisa, too!”
“I get suckered into everything,” he says, sighing before heading off for the food cart.
“I have to run to the bathroom,” I tell Julisa. “I’ll meet you back here.”
“Meet me at the food cart,” she says. “I’ll go keep Luis company in line, since he’s treating.”
As usual, there’s a line for the girls’ room. I’m standing behind a group of girls in black-and-silver tracksuits. I wonder if they know Bree.
“How does it feel being back at your old school?” one of them asks the black-haired girl standing with her back to me.
“Weird,” she says. “Really weird.”
My heart starts thumping in my chest, and my palms are damp. It’s Bree.
“I never thought I’d come back here, ever,” she continues. “Not after … what happened.”
I stand there, frozen.
And then Christine, one of the other cheerleaders, comes out of the bathroom, and says, “Hey, Lara,” and Bree turns around, looking at me, wide-eyed.
Her face looks thinner and paler against the stark black of her hair.
I feel a flood of nerves explode within me, and I have the urge to bolt. Instead, I quietly say, “Hi, Bree.”
“Lara,” she says. “Hi … I was wondering if I’d … see you here.”
“Yeah … me too,” I say. “You —”
Hurt me so much … Made me try to kill myself over a guy who didn’t even exist … Made me afraid to trust anyone including myself …
“— look different with dark hair.”
“I did it a while back,” she says, fidgeting a little. “Mom hates it.”
The girls she’s with are watching and listening. They know what happened, and they’ve figured out that I’m Lara Kelley.
The girl who fell for Bree’s trick. The girl who tried to kill herself.
I am that girl, but I’m not just her anymore. I’ve been working really hard to become more. I straighten my shoulders.
“I liked the routine you guys did,” I say, even though what I really want to say is Why, Bree? Why did you do it?
“Thanks,” Bree says. “We’ve been practicing that one for a while.”
She glances at the line ahead, as if desperate for it to be her turn so she can avoid talking to me anymore. “How are things here?” she asks. “With you?”
I had to work so hard every day to get to where I am now … I hate you for what you did to me … Why did you do it, Bree? WHY?!!!
“Great!” I say, smiling brightly. “Cheerleading’s great. Homecoming’s coming up soon. It’s all good.”
I feel like I’ve turned into my mother. Everything is perfect with us Kelleys!
“Oh … I’m glad to hear that,” Bree says. We’re almost at the front of the line, and a stall opens up. “Is it okay if I go first?” she asks her friends. “I’m really desperate.”
They tell her to go ahead.
“Bye, Lara!” she says, before escaping into the bathroom stall.
Her teammates look at me curiously, like they’re not sure what to make of me. They seem surprised that there wasn’t more of a scene.
What they don’t realize is that when I get into the bathroom stall, my legs are shaking. I have to take several deep breaths to try to calm myself down before I emerge to go meet my friends at the food cart.
Julisa’s in line as I come out of the bathroom. At least it’s shorter now.
“I couldn’t wait. I left Luis waiting for you by the food cart,” she says. “Don’t let him eat my wrap!”
“I won’t,” I say.
The minute I see Luis, he asks, “What’s the matter?”
“How can you tell?” I ask.
“Because you’re even paler than usual, gringa.”
Even though I’m freaked out, he gets a giggle out of me.
“I just ran into Bree.”
“Is it the first time since …”
“Yeah. It was … weird.”
“Are you okay?”
Am I? I’ve been imagining that meeting for so long, now that it has taken place it’s almost anticlimactic. An
d I still don’t know why Bree did what she did. Maybe I never will. Maybe I just have to learn to move on, regardless.
“Yes,” I tell him, summoning up a smile. “You know, I think I am.”
He hands me my wrap and shifts from one foot to the other.
“So, before my sister gets back, I wanted to ask you … Do you want to go to the homecoming dance?”
He takes me totally by surprise.
“With you?”
“No, with Iron Man,” he quips, smiling, his warm eyes lighting up. “Yes, with me!”
I don’t know if it’s because I just saw Bree, or if it’s just because I’m a coward.
“I’m sorry … I can’t. I’ve got to get back.”
And I turn and run back to the sidelines.
I immediately regret it.
Syd says I should have said yes and just gone. She says it’s like trying to get back on a bicycle to ride after falling off. But if you fall off a bike and you break your arm, the doctor can tell you how long it’s going to take to heal. So many weeks wearing a cast, so many weeks of physical therapy, and, boom, you’re good to go.
But when someone lies to you and makes you afraid to trust, it’s different. No one can tell you how long it’ll take for that damage to heal. You can’t just take a pill or wear a cast or do so many reps of weights in physical therapy. I’m still seeing my therapist, and although I’m better than I was, I know there’s still a long way to go.
Syd and Liam are in the living room watching a movie, a bowl of popcorn balanced between them. He has his arm around her, and when she feeds him a piece, he kisses the tips of her fingers as she places the kernel to his lips.
When they laugh about something — and I don’t know if it’s because I’m sick of feeling like the third wheel or because I’m ready to feel happy for me, and I realize to do that I need to take a ride on the bicycle — I make a decision. When I get to my room, I text Luis and ask him if he’s found a date for the homecoming dance yet and say if not, I’ve changed my mind and I’d love to go with him. I apologize for being a coward yesterday.
It’s okay, he texts back. And I do have a date. Her name is Lara Kelley. : )
Last year at this time, I was obsessing about going to a dance with an imaginary boy. Now I’m going to a different dance with a real one, one who I know, who knows me, and who I think I’m beginning to trust.
Sometimes I feel like I’m never going to get over this, but maybe I am making progress after all. Maybe this really is a “process” and healing doesn’t come all at once — maybe it just creeps up on you a little bit at a time until one day you finally realize you’re feeling better than you thought.
My memory box sits on the shelf above my desk. I haven’t really been able to look at it since last year. It’s just sat there. I take it down and remove the printout of the chat conversation where Christian DeWitt, the guy who never really existed, said Love you, which he never did. I rip the paper into tiny fragments and throw them in the garbage.
It’s time to make some new memories. Real ones, this time.
Today I’m grateful that the pills didn’t work. I’m grateful that every day I’m feeling a little bit stronger. I’m so very grateful that I get the chance to try again.
A NOVEL has many parents. Although my name is on the front, taking all the credit, so many others deserve kudos for helping this book become infinitely better than it started out.
My amazing editor, Jody Corbett, kept asking all the right questions, while keeping me endlessly entertained through our margin-note conversations. To the wonderful team at Scholastic — production editors Elizabeth Starr Baer and Stephanie Engel, copy editor Rachael Hicks, designer Sharismar Rodriguez, publicist Saraciea Fennell, and, of course, David Levithan, Tracy van Straaten, and Lizette Serrano — thank you!
Jennifer Laughran is an agent extraordinaire. She tends to her clients with love, humor, and cute dog pictures.
I owe Steve Fondiller big-time for his brilliant advice on revising chapter one. Diana Klemin, Bill Buschel, Susan Warner, Gay Morris, Tom Mellana, Len Vlahos, Alexandra Stevens, and Karen Ball were early readers, and I can’t thank them enough for their helpful feedback.
One of the things I love most about being a writer is being granted the opportunity to ask interesting people questions about their work for research. Sincere thanks to Greenwich police chief Jim Heavey; Sergeant Mark Zuccerella, leader of the Greenwich Police Department’s Special Victims Section; Paul Falavolito, chief at White Oak Emergency Medical Services; and David H. Delman, MD, of DHD Medical PC for their generosity and patience. Any mistakes about procedures are all mine.
Adam Bernard allowed me to turn him into an Abercrombie model (not that he doesn’t look like one already), Luis Cotto volunteered to be a character in my novel (I hope you like yourself), and Nikki Mutch and Gabe Rosenberg shared my “If dog looks could kill” photo on Facebook so I could then delete it and see if it still existed on their walls. (It didn’t.) Being willing to do strange things for your author friends is a sign of true friendship.
I would not be the woman I am today without the love and support of my incredible, warm, and funny family. As Grandma Dorothy used to say, “We come from good stock.” You know, kind of like prize heifers. I love you all.
Josh and Amie, being your mom is the best story ever, and I can’t wait to see what the next chapter brings.
Hank, thank you for keeping me sane on those “one more wafer-thin mint” days. Okay, stop laughing. I meant sane-ish. I love you, and I’m grateful every day we are together.
I WAS inspired to write Backlash after reading news stories about several cyberbullying incidents and the online vigilantism that occurred in the name of making the bullies “pay.” As bullying continues to play out more often in a virtual world, it is important to understand the hurt these actions can cause, and the real-life consequences they can have. It’s my hope that this book will help start thoughtful conversations around how we can rethink attitudes and combat bullying in our schools, our homes, and our communities.
For more information and resources about bullying and cyberbullying, visit: www.backlash-book.com.
SARAH DARER LITTMAN is the critically acclaimed author of Want to Go Private?; Life, After; Purge; and Confessions of a Closet Catholic, winner of the Sydney Taylor Book Award. When she’s not writing novels, Sarah is an award-winning columnist for the online site CT News Junkie. She teaches creative writing as an adjunct professor in the MFA program at Western Connecticut State University and with Writopia Lab. Sarah lives with her family in Connecticut. You can visit her online at www.sarahdarerlittman.com.
Want to Go Private?
Life, After
Purge
Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Darer Littman
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Littman, Sarah, author.
Backlash / Sarah Darer Littman. — First edition.
pages cm
Summary: When Christian, a boy she knows only through Facebook, posts a lot of nasty comments on her page, fifteen-year-old Lara tries to kill herself — but that is only the beginning of the backlash for her sister, Sydney; her former friend Bree; and her classmates.
ISBN 978-0-545-65126-4 — ISBN 978-0-545-65127-1 — ISBN 978-0-545-75502-3 1. Cyberbullying — Juvenile fiction. 2. Suicidal behavior — Juvenile fiction. 3. Families — Juvenile fiction. 4. Sisters — Juvenile fiction. 5. Neighbors — Juvenile fiction. 6. Friendship — Juvenile fiction. [1. Cyberbullying — Fiction. 2. Bullying — Fiction. 3. Suicide — Fiction. 4. Family life — Fiction. 5. Sisters — Fiction. 6. Neighbors — Fiction. 7. Friendship — Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.L7369Bac 2015
813.6 — dc23
2014020226
> First edition, April 2015
Cover photograph © by Christie Goodwin/Arcangel Images
Polka-dot pattern © by Inga Linder/Shutterstock
Cover design by Sharismar Rodriguez
e-ISBN 978-0-545-65127-1
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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