I’m the leftover.
The lucky one.
The only one in that room who lived.
And now I’m back in school.
It sucks.
* * *
—
I don’t know where to park, so I spend far too long trying to maneuver through the stupid maze of a lot, one hand on the wheel and the other clutching the hand-drawn map Lucy gave me last night to try to alleviate my anxiety.
I’m so exhausted that the lines of her drawing keep twisting together like ropes, crossing in imaginary places. I didn’t get home until almost two a.m.; I stayed on that driveway for almost an hour, lying there with that stupid cat, just breathing. Feeling like the sky was pressing down on my head, like the stars were going to pop like old lightbulbs any second, leaving the world black.
I finally find my space and turn the car into it with enough force that for a second I’m afraid the brakes will fail and I’ll go slamming into the car across the way. I’m used to Jordan sitting next to me, reminding me to slow down. Even toward the end, when we weren’t talking much, when our silences could swallow entire car rides, his hand on my arm could calm me. Now there’s an empty seat next to me: a reminder that I’m alone.
Once I’m parked, I head across the sidewalk to the main building.
When I reach the front door, I remember what I forgot.
The sight of the metal detectors slams me in the stomach. They look like something out of a sci-fi movie, something that I should see in a place that is dangerous and frightening, not in a school building, but of course now they are one and the same, the frightening places and the daily places, and my mouth tugs downward and my stomach plummets through the asphalt into the center of the earth.
Then, because I have no other option, no other choice, I push through the doors and put my school bag on the conveyor belt and walk through the detector. Out of the corner of my eye I see a uniformed guard patting down another late arrival, gracelessly poking at his pockets and around his ankles.
On the other side, I come face to face with a giant placard displaying the names and faces of the other people who were in the band room that day—my favorite teacher, my friends, my fucking brother. Why they insisted on putting up this disgusting memorial at all the high schools in our area is beyond me. The shooting didn’t happen here. It’s like they’re just trying too hard—trying to act like they care—trying to act like they understand.
Like they could ever understand.
Thank god Lucy warned me or I’d probably puke all over it.
Before I can explode into a thousand tiny molecules of fury, my friend Chimera is on me like white on rice. She clamps her slender fingers around my arm, and I almost jump out of my skin.
“May, oh my god, I am so glad to see you. Do you have an extra tampon? I just got my period. It’s like a fucking bloodbath down there….” She trails off and her face goes scarlet. My heart’s beating at a thousand ticks a minute, and I’m breathing in and out, trying to calm myself down. Chim glances over at Jordan’s face, which is staring at us from the bullshit display on the wall. “Oh god. I didn’t mean that. Oh my god, I am so sorry…” She drops my arm and puts her hands to her mouth. This is such typical Chim. Haven’t seen her in three months, and in the first twenty seconds I’m reminded why.
Since I got kicked out of school last year, I’ve tried to learn how not to react. How to control my face and my emotions like a fucking Zen monk. It’s an art form, I swear. One I’m not very good at, especially around Chim, who reminds me of who I used to be—a person I’d rather forget.
I force a smile and rummage around in my purse with shaky fingers, finally