Losing Hope: A Novel

by Colleen Hoover

  “I don’t give a shit if you’re a teacher, a student, or a goddamned priest. Don’t you ever mention my sister again.” I stare at him for several more seconds, seething, waiting on his reaction. When he fails to say anything, I turn around and grab my backpack. “You’ll get your report tomorrow,” I say, exiting the classroom.

  • • •

  I’ve been convinced I was minutes away from being expelled. However, Mr. Mulligan apparently chose not to report our little interaction, because nothing has been said or done and it’s now lunch break.

  Moving along.

  “Holder,” someone says from behind me in the hallway. I turn around to find Amy catching up to me.

  “Hey, Amy.” I wish her presence gave me even the slightest hint of comfort, but it doesn’t. Seeing her standing here just reminds me of two weeks ago, then that reminds me of the pictures she was at my house for, then that reminds me of Les, then that reminds me of Hope. Then of course I’m consumed with guilt again.

  “How are you?” she asks hesitantly. “I haven’t heard from you since . . .” Her voice trails off, so I answer her quickly, not wanting her to feel she has to go into more detail.

  “I’m okay,” I reply, feeling guilty that she seems disappointed I didn’t call her. I thought she was pretty clear with what happened between us. I hope she is, anyway. “Did you um . . .” I look down at my feet and sigh, unsure how to bring it up without sounding like a complete asshole. I shift my weight from one foot to the other and look back up at her. “Did you want me to call you? Because I thought what happened . . .”

  “No,” she says quickly. “No. You thought right. I just . . . I don’t know.” She shrugs and looks as though she already regrets this conversation. “Holder, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ve been hearing rumors and I’d be lying if I didn’t say they have me worried. I felt like I made that day at your house all about me, and I never even thought to ask you how you were holding up at all.”

  She looks guilty for even bringing up the rumors, but she shouldn’t feel that way. She’s the only person all day to actually make an active effort to ensure the rumors aren’t true. “I’m okay,” I assure her. “Rumors are rumors, Amy.”

  She smiles, but doesn’t seem to believe the words coming out of my mouth. The last thing I want her to do is worry about me. I wrap my arms around her and whisper in her ear. “I promise, Amy. You don’t need to worry about me, okay?”

  She nods, then pulls away from me, looking nervously down the hall to her left, then to her right. “Thomas,” she whispers, excusing the fact that she pulled away from me. I smile at her reassuringly.

  “Thomas,” I say, nodding. “Not at home helping his dad with yard stuff, I guess?”

  She purses her lips together and shakes her head. “Take care, Holder” she says, turning to walk away.

  I put my things in my locker, then head to the cafeteria. I walk in several minutes after the cafeteria has filled up with people, and at first it’s like any other day at lunch. But once people begin to spot me as I make my way to the table where Daniel is seated, the voices drop entire octaves and eyes can’t seem to mind their own business.

  The amount of drama I’ve witnessed today is comical, really. Everyone I pass, even people I’ve been friends with for years, all seem to think if they don’t quietly watch my every move, they might miss the moment that I completely break down and lose it. I hate to disappoint them, but I’ve got a pretty good handle on things today. Nobody’s going to be losing it, so they might as well go back to their regular routine.

  By the time I actually reach the table, the entire sound of the lunchroom has dropped to a dull murmur. All eyes are on me and I seriously wish I could tell everyone to go fuck themselves. But that would be giving them exactly the meltdown they want, so instead I keep my mouth shut.

  The one thing I don’t do, though, is tell Daniel he can’t say what I’m wishing I could say. I look him straight in the eyes as I approach the table and we have one of our quick, nonverbal conversations. A nonverbal conversation in which I give him the go-ahead to release any pent-up frustration he might still be harboring.

  He grins mischievously and loudly slaps his palms down on the table. “Holy motherfucking shit!” he yells, climbing up onto his chair. He gestures wildly toward me. “Look, everybody! It’s Dean Holder!” He proceeds to climb on top of the lunchroom table, pulling all the attention away from me and placing it on himself.

  “Why is everyone staring at me?” he yells, motioning with huge, exaggerated gestures toward me. “We have the Dean Holder here! The one and only!” When only a few people look away from him toward me, he throws his hands up in the air like he’s disappointed in them. “Come on, guys! We’ve been anticipating this moment for two weeks now! Now that he’s finally here, you all decide to shut the hell up? What’s up with that?” He looks down at me and frowns, slumping his shoulders in defeat. “I’m sorry, Holder. I thought today would be a little more interesting for you. I was hoping for a Q&A session to kind of clear the air, but I didn’t realize every single person in this school is a spineless dipshit.” He begins to climb down from the table but then shoots his arm up into the air and holds up a finger. “Wait!” he says, spinning to face the entire crowd. “That’s actually a very good idea!”

  I look around and expect one of the cafeteria monitors to be making their way over to him to put a stop to his spectacle, but the only monitor in the cafeteria right now is just watching him like everyone else, waiting to see what he’s up to.

  Daniel jumps from our table to the table next to us, stepping on a few trays in the process. He spills chocolate milk all over the table and almost slips, but presses his hand onto the top of a guy’s head and straightens himself back up. The entire spectacle is pretty damn entertaining, so I take a seat at our table and watch him like I’m not even the reason behind his whole outburst.

  He looks down at a girl seated at the table beneath his feet and he extends his arm, pointing his finger down at her. “What about you, Natalie? Now that we have Dean Holder here and live in person, would you like to ask him if your theory about why Les killed herself is correct?”

  Natalie’s face reddens and she stands up. “You’re an asshole, Daniel!” She grabs her tray and walks away from the table. Daniel remains standing on top of the table, but his extended index finger follows her across the cafeteria.

  “Wait, Natalie! What if Lesslie did kill herself because Grayson dumped her the same week he took her virginity? Don’t you want to know if you’re right? Don’t you want to know what you’ve won?”

  Natalie exits the cafeteria, so he immediately turns his attention to Thomas, who is seated next to Amy a few tables down. She’s got her hand over her mouth and she’s looking at Daniel in shock like the rest of the cafeteria. He points to Thomas, then hops across three cafeteria tables to get to him. “Thomas!” Daniel yells excitably. “What about you? Would you like to participate in the Q&A? I heard your theory this morning during first period and it was a doozy.”

  Thomas stands up and grabs his tray just like Natalie did. “Daniel, you’re being a jerk.” He nods toward me. “He doesn’t need this right now.”

  I don’t say anything, but I actually hope Thomas gets away unscathed. I don’t know what rumor he started, but even so. I’m pretty sure what I did with Amy was retaliation enough, even though he’ll likely never know about it.

  “Oh?” Daniel says, pulling his hand up to his mouth in false shock. He looks over at me. “Holder? Do you not need this right now? Are you like, in mourning or something? Should we be respecting that?”

  I try not to smile, but Daniel’s doing a damn good job of turning this shitty day upside down. He steps from one table to the next, moving back toward our table.

  “Do you not want to participate in the Q&A, Holder? I thought maybe you would want to set the record straight.” He spins around and addresses the entire cafeteria again without waiting on an answer
from me. Several students begin picking their trays up and exiting the cafeteria in fear that they’ll be pointed out next. “Where’s everyone going? None of you seem to mind discussing it any other time. Why not right now when we can actually get some honest answers? Maybe Holder could tell us all why Les really did it. Or better yet, how she did it. Maybe we could even find out the truth behind the speculation that he’s suicidal, too!” Daniel looks at me again and props his hands on his hips. “Holder? Are the rumors true? Do you actually have the date set for when you plan to kill yourself?”

  Now all eyes are definitely on me. Before I can answer, and not that I was going to, Daniel holds up his arms and faces his palms out toward me. “Wait! Don’t answer that, Holder.” He spins around to address the quickly dwindling crowd again. “I think we should open it up for bets! Somebody find me a pen and paper! I’ve got dibs on next Thursday,” he says, pulling his wallet out of his pocket.

  Apparently the cafeteria monitor draws the line at illegal betting, because she’s now walking determinedly toward Daniel. He notices the monitor stalking toward him, so he shoves his wallet back into his pocket. “We’ll take bets after school, then,” he says quickly, jumping off the table.

  I turn and head toward the doors to the cafeteria and he follows behind me. As soon as the doors swing shut behind us, the murmur of the cafeteria returns, but much louder this time. Once we’re both back in the hallway near our lockers, I turn to face him.

  I can’t decide whether I want to punch him for what he just did or bow down to him. “You’re messed up, man.” I laugh.

  He runs his palms down his face and falls against the lockers with a big sigh. “Yeah. I didn’t really mean for it to go on like that. I just couldn’t take another second of this shit. I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

  “Me either,” I say. I open my locker and grab my car keys. “I think I’m just gonna call it a day. I really don’t want to stick around right now.”

  Daniel opens his mouth to respond, but he’s interrupted by someone clearing his throat behind me. I turn around to find Principal Joiner eyeing Daniel angrily. I turn back to Daniel and he lifts his shoulders innocently. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Looks like me and Principal Joiner have a lunch date.”

  “More like a detention date,” Principal Joiner says firmly from behind me. Daniel rolls his eyes and follows the principal toward the office.

  I grab the book I need to finish Mr. Mulligan’s research paper and shut my locker, then walk down the hall toward the exit. Before I round the hallway, I hear someone say Les’s name and it causes me to stop in my tracks. I peer around the corner and there is a small group of four people leaning up against their lockers. One of the guys is holding a cell phone and they’re all leaning over him, watching the video he’s playing. Daniel’s voice is coming from the speaker. Apparently someone recorded his display during lunch just now and it’s already circulating. Great. Even more fuel for the gossip.

  “I don’t understand why Daniel made such a big deal out of it,” the guy holding the phone says. “Does he really expect us not to talk about it? If someone is pathetic enough to kill themselves, we’re obviously going to talk about it. If you ask me, Les should have tried to stick it out rather than take the easy—”

  I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence. His phone shatters when I throw it against the locker, but the sound doesn’t even come close to the sound my fist makes when it meets his jaw for the first time. I don’t know if the punches get louder after that, though, because everything around me is instantly tuned out. He’s on his back on the floor of the hallway now and I’m on top of him, hitting him hard enough that I hope he’s never able to open his fucking mouth again. People are pulling on my shoulders and my shirt and my arms, but I continue hitting him. I put my rage on repeat and watch as my fist grows redder and redder from the blood that smears my hand every time I swing at him.

  I guess they’re getting their wish after all. I’m breaking down.

  I’m losing it.

  And I don’t really give a fuck.

  Chapter Five

  * * *

  Les,

  Happy five-week deathiversary.

  Sorry I haven’t kept you up to speed lately, but a lot has happened. You’re going to love this. I, Dean Holder, got arrested.

  I got into a fight at school defending your honor two weeks ago. Well, I guess I can’t really call it a fight, per se. I think two people have to be involved to constitute a fight and this incident was definitely one-sided.

  Anyway, I was taken into custody. I was barely there for three hours before Mom bailed me out, though, so it sounds more badass than it actually was. I will admit, it was the first time I’ve ever been thankful she’s a lawyer.

  I’m a little more than upset right now and I don’t really know what to do about it. Mom has been struggling a lot lately and my little incident at school really didn’t help matters. She thinks she failed us. You killing yourself left her completely doubting her abilities as a mother, which is really hard for me to watch. Now that I went and fucked up, too, she’s doubting herself even more. So much so that she’s forcing me to go stay with Dad for a while.

  I think it’s all too much for her. After I beat that asshole up at school, she admitted to me that she thinks I need more help than she’s able to give me right now. I did everything I could to change her mind, but after my court hearing this morning, it seems the judge agrees with her. Dad is on his way here right now to pick me up. Five more hours and I’ll be heading back to our hometown.

  Back to where the downhill slope began.

  Do you remember how things used to be when we were kids? Before I let Hope climb into that car?

  Things were good. Really good. Mom and Dad were happy. We were happy. We loved our neighborhood, our house, our cat that kept jumping in that damn well in the backyard. I don’t even remember that cat’s name, but I remember him being the stupidest damn cat I’ve ever encountered.

  It wasn’t until the day I walked away from Hope, leaving her crying in the front yard, that our lives began going downhill. After that day everything changed. The reporters showed up, the stress intensified, and our innocent trust in other people completely disappeared.

  Mom wanted to move out of town and Dad didn’t want to leave his job. She didn’t like the fact that we still lived next door to where it happened. Remember how she wouldn’t let us go outside alone for years after Hope was kidnapped? She was so scared the same thing would happen to us.

  They tried to not let the stress affect their marriage, but it eventually ended up being too much. I remember the day they told us they were divorcing and selling the house, and that Mom was moving us here to be closer to her family. I’ll never forget it because, aside from Hope being taken, it was the worst day of my life.

  But it seemed like your best.

  You were so excited to move. Why, Les? I wish I had thought to ask you while you were alive. I want to know what it was you hated about living there so much, because I really don’t want to go back to Austin. I don’t want to have to leave Mom. I don’t want to have to stay with Dad and pretend that I’m okay with him giving up on his family all those years ago. I don’t want to go back to a town where every time I turn a corner, I’m looking for Hope.

  I miss you so damn much, Les, but it’s different from the way I miss Hope. With you, I know it’s not a possibility that I’ll ever see you again. I know you’re gone and you’re not suffering anymore. But I don’t have that sense of closure with Hope. Because I don’t know that she’s not suffering anymore. I don’t know if she’s dead or alive. My mind does this awful thing where it imagines the worst possible scenarios for her, and I hate it.

  What are the chances that the only two girls in my life I’ve ever loved . . . I’ve lost? It’s killing me piece by piece every single day. I know I should probably find a way to try to get over it . . . to let go of the blame. But to be honest, I don’t want t
o get over it. I don’t want to forget that my inability to protect either of you is why I’m the only one of us left. I deserve to be reminded every second that I’m alive that I let both of you down, so that I can be conscious not to let myself ever do this again to anyone else.

  Yeah, I definitely need a reminder. Maybe I should get a tattoo.

  H

  Chapter Five-and-a-half

  * * *

  Les,

  What a year. I almost forgot about this notebook. Must have left it behind in my haste to pack last September. It was still sitting on my dresser, and judging by the layer of dust on it, I’m guessing Mom hasn’t been snooping in it. If Mom reacted to my moving in with Dad for the past year in the same way she reacted to your death, I’m sure she hasn’t set foot in my bedroom since the day I left. It seems easier for her to just close the doors and not think about the stillness of the rooms behind them.

  I’m pretty sure the plan was for me to stay in Austin until I graduated, but I thwarted that plan with my magical ability to turn eighteen. Dad couldn’t really hold me there against my will anymore. And speaking of turning eighteen . . . it was weird not having to share a birthday with you. But it was nice because Dad bought me a new car. I’m pretty sure if you were alive he would have made us share the car, but you aren’t alive so I get to keep it all to myself. And he didn’t make me leave it in Austin when I came back home a few days ago, so that’s a plus.