Dear Rachel Maddow

by Adrienne Kisner

  A notice. From my school account. I had logged on from an unfamiliar location twice. But it wasn’t me. They were sent from the school library, if I understood what the e-mail was telling me. And I hadn’t used the school library computers in ages.

  “I would guess the cameras in the library work. Because of all those computers the school just got. Maybe whoever framed you used machines at school to make it look like you did it,” said Michaela. You could practically hear venom in her voice.

  I threw her a grateful smile. “Thanks for having my back.”

  “Let’s go see Maynard,” said Justin.

  The computer might have saved me. Who would have thought that?

  Sincerely,

  Brynn

  Folder:

  Drafts

  To:

  Rachel@msnbc.com

  From:

  Brynnieh0401@gmail.com

  Date:

  March 14

  Subject:

  How low can you go?

  Dear Rachel Maddow,

  Debunktion junction, what’s my function? Toot, toot! In an earlier correspondence I believe I said that Adam couldn’t sink any lower. Is that true or false? False, Rachel! Toot, toot!

  Because going after me was mean, but pretty stupid. Going after my dead brother was asshattery. Far as I can tell, the dead don’t give a shit what sort of posters go up about them. But today. Well, yesterday went to a whole new level. And wouldn’t you know, it all went down right after I told Mr. Maynard that I might have proof that I was innocent after all.

  * * *

  After we went to Maynard’s office, the bell that ended Justin and Michaela’s study hall rang, so they had to go back to class. It was in the blue room that everything went wrong.

  “Um, Brynn?” Bianca whispered. Ms. Yee had started teaching. “There’s something you need to see,” she said.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “Lunch,” she said.

  So at lunch, Lacey, Riley, Bianca, Greg, and Lance formed a semicircle around Bianca’s phone. They seemed to already know what she was going to show me.

  “This isn’t necessary,” said Lacey. “She doesn’t need to see it.”

  Bianca shook her head at Lacey. “Yeah, she does.” Bianca looked at me. “We got this, today. On Insta,” she said. “But I think it’s been sent out other places, too. I texted a couple of people to check. Um. Most people have seen it, you know. Small school.”

  “Is this about my brother?” I asked.

  “No,” said Bianca. She showed me the video.

  “Students of Westing,” said a deep voice. “All of you have secrets. Some of them bad. Some of them worse. Some of them downright terrifying.” Horror music played.

  My stomach dropped. Jesus S. Christ, what was left to say about me?

  “A new student came to Westing a few months ago, and no one took notice. Why would we? She was hidden from view. But you can’t hide what you do in the dark. Because someone will eventually shine a light on you.” Familiar images flashed. Oh, holy sweet asshole slime ball sacks. There were bare legs. And toned, flat abs. I squinted, unable to look away. Man, Adam really knew how to get back at a person. That shattered me, for a second.

  But Rachel.

  It certainly wasn’t me.

  Or Nick.

  Or Sarah.

  It was Michaela.

  Michaela surrounded by people, clearly not sober. Or awake. Wearing very little. Michaela. Exposed.

  “Tsk, tsk. Bad girls like bad girls.”

  That stopped me. In spite of everything. “Oh my God. Are you serious? All those people standing around at that party or whatever it is? That’s exploitation, you shit-eating son of fucking Satan,” I screamed at Bianca’s phone.

  “Everything okay over there?” said Mr. Grimm.

  Some picture of Michaela stayed on the screen at the end of the video, but I couldn’t stand to look at it.

  At the end of the video, I put my head in my hands. I tried texting her from Bianca’s phone. It was all over the whole school by dismissal for sure.

  All of this way my fault. My fucking fault. For what? For giving a damn? Is this how it is, Rachel? I’ve looked you up online before. The things people say about you. Such terrible, terrible things. You went to Stanford, you got yourself a Rhodes Scholarship, you earned a kick-ass job on TV. But people skewer you like a woman-kabob because you show what you know (and they don’t). At the end of the day, it just goes to show that even the best of us are punching bags for the mean and stupid. And those who aren’t the best? Well. We’re just trash, aren’t we?

  Fuck it, Rachel. Fuck it all. I’m done.

  Sincerely,

  Brynn

  Folder:

  Inbox

  To:

  Brynnieh0401@gmail.com

  From:

  Egrimm@westing.pa.edu

  Date:

  March 15

  Subject:

  RE: The Ides

  Dear Rachel Maddow,

  I didn’t forget the questions I am supposed to answer for you. I didn’t answer the last two from Mr. Grimm. I am answering them now to stop him from staring at me like I’m about to explode from patheticness. [You have many admirable qualities, Brynn. Chief among them is that you keep at things. Even if they take several months and are technically way overdue, you still stick with them. I admire that.] I avoided the last one—“What could you do to change what bothers you?” And I just skipped the last one, “What inspires you?” altogether. I figured since I obviously wasn’t going to send any of these to you, why bother? But I was struck when I came back to school today. Same old hallways, same smartphones everywhere that replayed Michaela’s video over and over, same blue room. Greg, Lance, Riley, and Bianca could barely look at me. But Lacey came right over to me.

  “Are you still running?” she asked.

  I sucked in my breath to say no. I wasn’t running. I was doing as little as possible until I turned eighteen in a little more than two weeks, and then I was dropping out and working a million hours in retail for the rest of my life. Anything was better than this shit. But I looked at Lacey. I know she’d be pissed off if I told her she inspired me. But that was the truth. She inspires the fuck out of me. Not because she overcame adversity and shit, but because she’s always stuck by me. She’s smart and kind and awesome amidst a universe filled with twats dickwad scrotum pubes. [Brynn. You do remember I’m a teacher, yes?] And even if she could find a more interesting person to try to help out, she picked me.

  In that moment, when I was there looking at her, her being my one true friend left at this stupid school … I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t quit. I remember what it felt like when I thought Nick could get his shit together but didn’t. I had a choice here. Goddamnit I’m going to grab agency by the nads and use that motherfucker to try to enact change. [Have you considered asking Lacey or another classmate to read your assignments before you turn them in? I know she used to give you feedback.…]

  “Yeah. I’m still running for the stupid SGA president. I mean, people vote in days. Might as well.”

  “Yeeeahhhhh!” Lacey said.

  I grinned in spite of myself.

  “Is Michaela okay?” Lacey asked.

  My grin faded. “I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t talked to her since yesterday. I tried to call. And text her from Justin’s phone. A bunch. I haven’t seen her around at school. Have you?” I asked hopefully.

  “Oh,” Lacey said. “No. I’m sorry.” We stared at each other for a painful moment.

  “Though, you know, Ms. Willis,” I said slowly. “This makes me a person with pretty much nothing left to lose.”

  “Okay…” Lacey said slowly.

  “Yup. Aren’t people like that … dangerous?”

  “Yes…”

  “So I might as well see if I win this thing, right?”

  “Yes, Brynn. One hundred percent.”

  What can I say? I’m at the end of my rope.
And when I’m at the end of my rope? I take no prisoners.

  [Again, here you are, so persistent. In the midst of defeat, turmoil. Here you are acting on your beliefs, instead of just remaining inactive. Brava, Brynn!]

  Sincerely,

  Brynn

  Folder:

  Drafts

  To:

  Rachel@msnbc.com

  From:

  Brynnieh0401@gmail.com

  Date:

  March 19

  Subject:

  Election Day

  Dear Rachel Maddow,

  Got my grades today. I got all As. Maybe Mr. Grimm and Ms. Yee gave them out of pity or guilt or confusion. Maybe I got partial credit for writing to you and not cowering before Adam. I could be on the paper again, if I weren’t likely dropping out next month.

  SGA set up an official polling place in the gym. There were tables with little cardboard dividers. You had to check in to receive your ballot. Mr. Maynard had taken great pains to tell everyone three times a day all of March to bring the school ID. I voted for Justin and myself and the other uncontested offices. I wrote in Lawrence O’ Donnell’s name as a protest vote for the VP position instead of Sarah. Someone should really do pep rallies to get people more interested in down-ticket races. And running for them. When public service is as important as football or wrestling at Westing High, then maybe we’d be getting somewhere.

  I folded my form and shoved it into the wooden ballot box, manned by Sarah. We avoided each other’s eyes as I turned away. I sat silently in the blue room for the rest of the day. Voting ended at 2:00, so the results would be announced at the end of school. The blue room clock doesn’t tick. The second hand whirs around silently. I watched it for far too many seconds. Five minutes before the final bell, the intercom crackled to life.

  “Good afternoon, students,” said Mr. Maynard. “I have your SGA election results.” The blue room hushed. Lacey rolled over to me. I tried to give her a small smile, but it was too exhausting.

  “Secretary, Phillip Brenner. Treasurer, Justin Mitchell. Vice president, Sarah Livingston. And the SGA president for next year is…” He paused. “Adam Graff.”

  An audible groan went up in the blue room. And the red room and yellow room and green room. My brain grew comfortably numb. If before the numbness had ebbed and flowed, now it took up permanent residence. No anger, or sadness, or loss, or anything flitted through.

  “I’m sorry, Brynn,” said Lacey. “At least we tried, right?”

  My head nodded at her. “Yup. At least we tried.”

  And failed, Rachel. Again.

  Sincerely,

  Brynn

  Folder:

  Sent

  To:

  Brynnieh0401@gmail.com

  From:

  Egrimm@westing.pa.edu

  Date:

  March 22

  Subject:

  RE: School Assignment

  Dear Brynn,

  As you are likely aware, I taught your brother my first and his last year here at Westing High. I can honestly say that of anyone I’ve ever met, your brother was the best kind of person: hardworking, nice to people, full of original ideas. Did you know that he convinced several of us to have a carnival in the parking to raise money for cancer research, because another student in his class had leukemia? He was the best.

  I know you miss him. I miss him, and he was only my student for one year. I see so much of him in you. And you might think that means you are doomed. But was he doomed when he was a kid trying to help his friend? Was he doomed when he had a straight-A report card? I don’t think he was. I don’t think he was doomed until the second he OD’d.

  Every second before that he had a chance. You are like him before his choices and before the illness of opiates took him. You have a chance in every second of every day. You’ll make mistakes, because that’s what people do. But you can make it. Nick would be so, so thrilled with the person you have become.

  Your assignments this year have been as inspiring as they were scatological in content. That is saying something, young lady. Don’t give up. There will be countless chances out there to do good in the world.

  Warmly,

  Mr. Grimm

  Folder:

  Sent

  To:

  mmaynard@westing.pa.edu

  From:

  wbird@westing.pa.edu

  Date:

  March 25

  Subject:

  Dear Mark,

  “I’ve been the janitor here through six principals. We’ve had those cameras for three. You’re the first who made me do something with them. Here are them recordings you wanted.”

  —Bill

  P.S. Hi, Mr. Maynard! It’s Will, Bill’s son. I hope you’re doing well. Dad had me type this for him. I came in and found the video footage of the library you wanted. Attached you will find the digital files. I hear this might be because of some controversy over the school elections? How some things never change at ol’ Westing. Thanks!

  Folder:

  Sent

  To:

  mmaynard@westing.pa.edu

  From:

  JSG@GraffHunterWexley.net

  Date:

  March 26

  Subject:

  Investigation

  Dear Principal Maynard,

  As you may have been aware, the investigation surrounding the War Memorial has been concluded. I will not apologize for Adam’s behavior. He has been targeted for years at Westing High and finally broke due to all the stress.

  His cooperation in the investigation has been beyond reproach. It is unacceptable that you should now suspend him and not the other students (the ones not so clearly visible in the alleged pictures). Much to my chagrin, we will be pulling him from continuing at Westing High. It is clear that he will be unable to receive unbiased instruction at your school, despite the fact that he would have been the elected leader of his peers.

  Also, here is a list of students present the night of the War Memorial incident who should also be punished, the way my son has been.

  Sincerely,

  Jonathan S. Graff, Esquire

  * * *

  Folder:

  Sent

  To:

  GloriaMaynard@smrrttmail.com

  From:

  mmaynard@westing.pa.edu

  Date:

  March 27

  Subject:

  Summer vacation … permanently

  Dear Glory,

  Honey, honest to God, these kids are going to kill me. After all of the political intrigue and crappola I ranted about this week, I still don’t think that student I keep talking about is going to end up on Student Government. The kid who set fire to the War Memorial is still disqualified. That’s great, his dad is such a giant pain. And then we found out the girl who won the vice president spot broke into her ex-girlfriend’s e-mail and sent all of those incriminating photos of the first kid. (Her ex-girlfriend, who was the other student running for president. Are you following this? It’s like one of your damn shows.…) So then the vice president girl was disqualified. But the bylaws won’t allow a candidate who didn’t win to hold the office if there are other people who can be bumped up. She could run for secretary, maybe.

  It’s a shame. The whole school would have benefited from having her. I don’t even know if I can explain this whole thing to her because of privacy concerns. I’m going to ask the superintendent.

  Tonight I say we open a bottle (or two) of wine and seriously look into downsizing. You were right—life is short. We don’t need the huge house and neither one of us actually likes traveling. I could retire this year. I know you love your job, so we could survive pretty well off your efforts (like you’ve suggested since I moved into administration).

  Also, Cynthia is going to have that baby any day now, and she is not going to turn down free childcare from a grandpa with three master’s degrees in education.

  Love,

  Mark

  Folder:

>   Sent

  To:

  STUDENTS; PARENTS

  Cc:

  TRUSTEES

  From:

  mmaynard@westing.pa.edu

  Date:

  March 28

  Subject:

  SGA Election Results

  Dear Westing High Community,

  Due to events that have come to light the past week, the results of the recent Student Government presidential election are considered void. According to Article IV of the SGA charter:

  “Should a student be unwilling or unable to perform the duties assigned to a Student Body President, or should he or she be found in violation of the Westing High Honor Code, the Vice President will assume the rights and duties of the position. The Vice President will have the power to appoint his or her successor. Should the Vice President be unwilling or ineligible, the Secretary may fulfill the role, or the Treasurer. Offices below that of President may be fulfilled by appointment or by a new electoral process.”