by Eli Easton
“I’m just a few doors down. I’ll have my phone on silent, so you can text me if you decide you can’t stay. Okay?”
“Thanks,” I said lamely.
He gave me an encouraging smile and walked away. I didn’t get why Landon was so nice to me, but I was glad for the support.
I tried to focus on the lecture, but I kept finding myself listening for gunfire. My eyes kept moving to the door and the light above the door. My chest was tight. I couldn’t relax. I reminded myself there were three patrol cars outside, extra people in the building, and news crews. Even if the shooters did come back, there was no way they’d show up today.
But by the time the bell rang, it felt like I’d been tortured for hours.
One class down, only six more to go. Rinse and repeat tomorrow. And the day after that.
I was feeling pretty low when I walked into the hall and saw Landon leaning against the lockers.
“Hey!” he said brightly, his gaze moving over my face. “How was it?”
I shook my head despondently. I don’t know if I can do this.
His face fell. “It gets easier. I promise.”
I shrugged.
“What’s your next class?”
“Typing. A-Wing. I was pretty fast with my hunt-and-peck, but my mom swears touch typing is the best thing she ever took in high school.” I tried to act normal, but my voice sounded too high.
“It is! I took it my freshman year and it made me at least twice as fast. Totes worth it.” Landon started moving down the hallway toward the door we’d entered. “Wanna go the long way around? Get some sun?” As if sun would be the reason to avoid walking past the cafeteria.
“If you want,” I said. But my gut unclenched a little.
We pushed through the doors and cut across the lawn to the school’s main entrance. The air was chilly, but the sun was bright. We walked past the patrol cars parked in the circular drive at the front of the school. Two cops stood near them, watching people. Landon was right. It helped.
“The other class I loved was web design,” Landon said as we walked. “I know you can create websites without knowing any HTML, but it’s cool to know it anyway. You can get all fancy on forums, and it’s a good skill to have on your résumé.”
“I was thinking about that class. Maybe I’ll take it next semester.”
We went in through the main entrance and took a left to get to A-Wing. I avoided looking to the right toward the cafeteria so hard, you’d think it would turn me to stone. Landon walked me to the door of my Typing class and said goodbye with a casual tilt of his chin.
After Typing, he walked me to my third period Composition class, also in A-Wing. During fourth period, I normally had gym, but on email I’d arranged to stay in my Comp classroom with Ms. Wilson and study instead. I was strongly encouraged to use that time to go talk to one of the counselors. And I probably would soon, but it was more than I could deal with my first day back.
When the bell rang, Landon was there again, leaning against the lockers across the hall.
“Got lunch plans?” he asked.
Chapter 10
Landon
JOSIAH AND Madison were sitting in the top row of the bleachers. It was a spot that offered the best views. From up there you could see for miles. But it also meant going up a lot of stairs. I was worried about Brian’s wound, but he kept up with me step for step, his thumbs hooked in the straps of his backpack.
By the time we got to the top, he was breathing hard. He gave me an abashed look. “It’s amazing how fast you lose it. I used to run up and down these steps twenty times during football practice.”
“Dude. You had major surgery. Give yourself a break.”
Josiah looked wary as we approached. He had an open bag of crackers held partway to his mouth. Madison sat up straighter and pulled her sweater down over her stomach self-consciously.
“Brian, this is Josiah and Madison, my best friends. Guys, this is Brian.”
“Hey,” Brian said.
“Hell-o?” Josiah said slowly, like it was a question.
“Hey, Brian,” Madison said in a chipper voice. “We met at, um, Jake’s funeral.”
“Yeah. Hey, Madison.”
It was awkward, kind of like those scenes in a movie where two people from warring parties meet in the center of a field to negotiate terms. I mean, this was Brian fucking Marshall. Coming to sit with us for lunch. It was a head trip. But I was determined to act cool. I slipped my backpack off and sat down a row below Josiah and Madison. I swung a leg over the bench seat, so I could face both rows. Brian slipped off his backpack and sat down next to me, but he left both knees forward. It would probably hurt his incision if he sat straddling the bench.
God, I had to stop thinking about his wound. I wasn’t his nurse. It was just that I’d seen it, so I knew how bad it had been. It was hard to get the image out of my head.
I took my lunch out of my backpack, and Brian got out his lunch too. Identical brown paper bags.
Brown bags were now ominous. You wouldn’t think there could be anything wrong with a homemade lunch. But before the shooting, I’d buy a sandwich or pizza in the cafeteria. Now my mom had a brown-bag lunch waiting for me in the mornings. Madison and Josiah were the same. I was willing to bet at least half the student body at The Wall was suddenly bringing their lunches to school.
“It’s hard coming back, I bet.” Madison brushed her hair back from her forehead with her forearm. She was so fair-skinned, it was always obvious when she felt self-conscious. She got red blotchy spots under her eyes just like she had right now. “God, I hate it.”
Brian turned his sandwich around on the wrapper. It looked like egg salad on soft white bread. “Yeah. It sucks.”
“Landon told us what happened in the cafeteria,” Josiah said. “Um. Sorry.”
I gave Josiah a wide-eyed look. Masterfully put. And he’d ragged me about the O.J. remark.
“Thanks.” Brian moved his sandwich around again. “Where were you guys when it happened?”
Madison and Josiah glanced at each other.
“I was in the auditorium with Landon,” Madison said. “Only he left to go get some stupid cough drops from his locker. When the PA announcement came on, Mr. Finch herded us all out the backstage exit. I was terrified Landon was going to get caught in the halls.” She gave me a worried look, biting her lip, as if she wasn’t sure she was supposed to tell Brian that.
“I was supposed to be in the cafeteria,” Josiah said. “Only I decided to study on the lawn near the portico. Then I saw all these people running across the parking lot, totally freaked out. People screaming and crying. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on.”
Madison nodded. “Our theater class went around the back of the school and across the parking lot to, well, here, basically. Except down there.” She pointed down at the football field. “There were a bunch of classes that exited the building like we did, and we all ended up over here. Like, maybe fifty people?” she asked Josiah.
He nodded. “Something like that. There were even kids taking off in their cars.” He nodded toward the north parking lot. “I don’t blame them. If I’d had a car, I would have gotten the hell out of here too.”
Brian’s face was pale, and the dark circles under his eyes seemed even more exaggerated. Maybe it was because the sun had come out from behind a cloud, brightening his face and making his dark hair gleam. But he seemed determined to talk about that day even if it bothered him. “Did you see the shooters?”
Madison and Josiah gave each other doubtful looks.
“Nah, not me,” Josiah said. “I heard the gunfire, but I never saw them.”
“Me either,” Madison agreed. “It was total chaos. People were crying and hugging, and teachers were trying to get us to move back. Everyone was on their phones calling their parents or trying to reach their friends inside.”
“Yeah,” Josiah scoffed. “And everyone was wondering where the hell the cops were. T
ook them forever to get here.”
“And I was trying to text Landon. I was so scared!” Madison remembered with a shiver.
Brian and I looked at each other. Something passed between us. Even though Madison and Josiah had been genuinely scared, it wasn’t the same. They didn’t know. It was the difference between seeing a car accident happen and actually being in the car.
I’d eaten my sandwich without realizing it. I noticed that Brian hadn’t taken a single bite of his. That wasn’t good.
You’re not his nurse, idjit, my brain reminded me.
He took a plain gray notebook from his backpack, turned to the back of it, and made some notes. Madison watched him. “I, um, really liked the poem you read in Comp. It was sick.”
Brian glanced at me, looking embarrassed. “Thanks. I liked your short story. With the girl who grows to King Kong size and flattens the town? Made me laugh.”
“Really?” Madison’s face lit up so bright, you’d think she’d just won an Academy Award.
Brian went back to writing in his notebook. Madison gave Josiah a smug look. The two of them were always competitive about their writing.
Josiah chewed on a granola bar, giving Brian a narrow-eyed stare. “So. Are you slumming with us now, or what? Not all your friends died.”
My temper flared red-hot. “Hey! What the fuck, man? What an asshole thing to say!”
“Not cool, Josey,” Madison agreed sourly.
Josiah gave me a look that was part guilt and part defiance. But he muttered, “Sorry.”
“Ignore him,” I told Brian, still pissed. “Clearly he’s got a stick up his ass today.”
“Said I was sorry!” Josiah repeated, louder and a little petulant.
But Brian wasn’t paying any attention to our snit. He craned his neck to scan the parking lot below, the school, and then the football field and the other groups of people having lunch on the bleachers. His eyes were haunted.
Great. Way to stress him out. I made myself calm down. I couldn’t blame Josiah for not welcoming Brian. He hadn’t been in the cafeteria that day, hadn’t seen Brian vulnerable the way I had. But he’d bully Brian over my dead body.
Which probably needed contemplating since I’d known Josiah way longer than I’d known Brian. For now, the better part of valor was just to change the damn subject.
“Hey, I was telling Brian about the cops being at the school all last week. How they were interviewing everyone.”
Brian looked up sharply. “They interviewed you guys too?”
Madison and Josiah both nodded.
“They called everyone down, one by one. It was pretty quick, though,” Madison said.
“What’d they ask you?”
“They wanted to know where you were when the PA announcement came on, and what you did, who you were with, who picked you up that day. If anyone had ever said anything threatening or brought a gun to school. All that stuff.”
Josiah folded his granola bar wrapper with care, like he was still a little pissed too. But his words were casual. “The big thing was they wanted a list of all the people that you for sure remembered seeing during the shooting.”
“Same,” said Madison.
Brian put his notebook in his lap, his face intent. “They’re trying to narrow down the possible suspects. What did they ask you, Landon? You were inside.”
I cleared my throat. “Well. I saw the shooters. So they mostly wanted to know about that.”
“You saw them?” Brian’s voice hitched. “I didn’t know that. What did you see?”
I rubbed my forehead with my thumb. It was hard to talk about it. Like, at all, but especially with Brian. I could tell his PTSD was bad, and I didn’t want to freak him out. But his expression was focused, and his dark blue eyes almost burned, like he was trying to look inside me, see what I knew.
So I told him—about the way the two shooters walked away from me down the hall to D-Wing. The stockier one with his gun up, acting all serious, like he was playing a SWAT game. And the other one, swinging his gun, bouncing on his toes, hyper.
“Do you think he was stoned?” Brian asked, his expression thoughtful.
“I have no idea. I can’t even begin to get into the headspace of somebody like that.”
“God, who’d want to?” Madison agreed with disgust in her voice.
“Did you get the impression they were young? Like our age?” Brian asked.
I nodded slowly. “I’d say so. But I can’t be sure. I only saw the back of them.”
“There are rumors it could be a teacher,” Madison said mysteriously.
“Yeah? What did you hear?” Brian turned that intense gaze on her, and she sat up a little straighter.
“Okay. Remember last year? That English teacher, Mr. Soames?”
Brian and I gave each other a blank look.
“Remember that viral video of a teacher grabbing Luanne Jackson by the hair and calling her the n-word?” Madison explained.
“Oh yeah,” Brian said.
“That’s Mr. Soames.”
“I thought he got canned,” Josiah said.
“He did. That’s the point. Maybe he has a grudge against the school.”
“Hmmm,” I said, unconvinced.
But Brian took more notes.
“I’ve heard people talking about the goth kids,” Josiah said, his voice low.
I knew the group he was talking about. There was a goth group that hung out together, five kids who wore all black, dyed their hair black, had lots of metal piercings and stuff like that.
“I’m not gonna accuse anyone based on the way they look,” Josiah went on. “Because been there, had that done to me, and that sucks.” He gave Brian a meaningful glare. “But I heard someone saying that at least one of them, Dixon, wasn’t around during the shooting. Like, he was in first and second period? Then no one saw him the rest of the day.”
Brian scribbled in his notebook, his face serious. I noticed he still hadn’t touched his food. My mom had put a chocolate pudding in my bag. I offered it to him. “Want this? Not really my thing.”
Brian looked at it and shook his head. “No, thanks.”
Then I had to offer it to Josiah and Madison. They both declined, even though I knew Madison loved anything chocolate.
“Landon, you hear anything back from that Parkland guy?” Josiah asked.
“Oh, yeah, shit! I meant to tell you.” I filled Brian in. “I PM’d a couple of the Parkland students on Twitter, the ones who’ve been doing all that activism? Well, they replied. They’re amazing. So smart and so lit. I’ve been emailing with them.”
“Huh.” Brian tapped his pen on the page.
“They want to meet us,” I told Josiah and Madison. “We’re thinking about trying to find a weekend to get together. We’d drive south, and they’d drive north, and we’d meet somewhere in the middle, like at a hotel. My mom is totally down with that. She said she’ll drive. Are you guys in?”
“Hell, yeah!” Madison said. “I’d walk there if I had to.”
“I’d walk and carry Maddy on my shoulders if I had to,” Josiah agreed seriously.
Madison snorted and gave him a little shove.
We talked about the Parkland students and how we might fit into some of their projects. I was so jacked about it, fired up to do whatever I could on the gun-control front. And Madison and Josiah were into it too. But Brian’s focus went back to his notebook, his eyes distant. The only thing that interrupted his writing was when he paused every few minutes to scan the parking lot, the school, the bleachers, the field.
Checking to see if death was coming.
Chapter 11
Brian
WHEN THE bell rang at the end of last period, I all but ran out of the classroom, moved as quickly as I could through the center hallway, and burst out the front doors. It was a short walk to the south parking lot where Landon was leaning against his car, waiting for me.
When he’d mentioned at lunch that he’d see me afte
r my last class, I’d felt a burn of disappointment and fear. But it wasn’t Landon’s job to walk me from class to class like I was a kindergartner. It was embarrassing the way I’d glommed onto him. Clearly it was time for this little bird to spread his broken wings. Right.
Only later did I remember that Landon had early dismissal. So he wasn’t even at school in the afternoons.
As I approached the car, Landon smiled shyly, like he was glad to see me. It made butterflies stir in my belly. We got in the car, and he started the engine.
“So. Drop you at your house?” he asked, looking over his shoulder to back out.
“Yup. Thanks. Hey, you didn’t have to come back to school just to drive me home.” I clutched my backpack in my lap. Of course, everyone was leaving this time of day, so we were crawling in a line of cars toward the exit. The looming presence of The Wall behind me threatened to snap the last frayed nerve I had after being in there all day. I wanted to get away from it.
“Ah. But then I couldn’t grill you.” He gave me a cheeky eyebrow waggle. “So, Brian, how was your first day back? How many hugs did you get? Or did you lose count after a hundred?”
He was trying to be light and funny, but I thought about it seriously. There’d been tons of hugs. Girls cooed over me. Some even cried over me. I’d gotten plenty of bro-hugs too. There had been relief in sharing the pain.
But it had still been horrible. Jake wasn’t there. I’d look up in the hallway in places where I might have seen him, expecting him to be there. People told me how sorry they were about Jake all day. I didn’t know what to do with that. I wasn’t sure I’d really accepted that he was dead. But at the same time, I felt hollow, like it had happened a long time ago.
I missed his snarky sense of humor, his constant motion and energy, the way he had of livening me up, taking me out of my own head. I missed him.
Also, I couldn’t stop myself from listening for gunfire, from checking the emergency lights, or looking out the windows. My stomach had hurt like I’d just been shot, and I’d waffled between being feverish or clammy. I hadn’t even gotten close to the cafeteria. Didn’t see how I ever could.