Say Something

by Jennifer Brown

  I turned and ran. Shoved right over the tops of people who’d been shoving over me. Didn’t care if I knocked someone down or hurt them or left them behind. All I could think was that I needed to get out of there, that I needed to get away. Not from Nick. Nick wouldn’t have hurt me.

  I needed to get away from Chris and all that blood.

  I needed to get away from my guilt.

  Never, I promised myself. I will never talk about it. I will never say anything.

  Senior Year

  I caught up with Valerie on graduation day, just after the ceremony. She was sitting on the bleachers, all alone in her cap and gown, her tassel fluttering like a flag in the breeze. She was staring off across the soccer field, hands buried in the folds of her robe. She looked softer in this light somehow. Glowy. Pink.

  I didn’t really know Valerie anymore, which was sad, because a part of me still felt connected to her. A part of me understood how hard she’d had to work this year, how much she’d fought for herself, for Nick. Being at graduation took guts for Valerie, and I felt a twinge of my old love for her, for the way she’d stood in front of the people who still blamed her for the shooting, chin up defiantly, owning her place in our class.

  I’d made Dad promise not to tell anyone anything until after I’d confided to Valerie myself. I’d let her take the blame for an entire year. I’d let everyone act like she was the monster who knew and never told. She wasn’t. I was. I at least owed her the truth.

  I sat next to her. “Hey,” I said. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” she said, not turning her eyes away from the field. “Congratulations to you, too.”

  “It doesn’t really feel like a celebration, does it?”

  The wind caught the tassel again and pulled it across her cheek. “Not really. You think anything ever will again?”

  I scrubbed the toe of my shoe in the gravel, feeling silly in my robe, as if I were wearing a dress. Like if Chris Summers had graduated with us, he’d probably have called it a dress just to fuck with me. “I don’t know.”

  “You know what’s funny?” she said, finally turning her gaze down at her hands. “I always thought he wanted to graduate. But now that I think about it, he never really talked about the future. Maybe I should have seen that as a sign.”

  “Val, don’t do this to yourself,” I said, placing my hand on her back.

  “I can’t help it,” she said. “I’ll never stop wondering and thinking about what I missed. I was so blind. I swear I didn’t know, David. You believe me, don’t you?”

  I let my hand fall back to the seat and took a deep breath. “I knew,” I said.

  She squinted up at me. “What do you mean?”

  “I knew,” I repeated. “I saw all the signs. I saw the names all crossed out on the hate list, and I saw him and Jeremy with a gun at Blue Lake the day before. He said things that didn’t make sense, and I saw the gun under his jacket before the shooting. I saw everything, but I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to get him in trouble or… or I don’t know. All I know is I saw it coming, and I tried to catch up with him, but it was too late. I should have told somebody days before, but I didn’t. All the things they’re saying you’re guilty of? It was me. Not you. Me.”

  Valerie shook her head slowly, as if what I was telling her just couldn’t compute. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.

  “Because I…” I paused, feeling fear tingle throughout my body. “Because I’m a coward and a shit friend.” My voice got thick with tears. I willed a few deep breaths into my lungs and pushed my tongue up against the roof of my mouth to keep from crying. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Valerie stood and then just sort of hovered there, as if she was unsure what to do with herself. “You’re sorry,” she said, and I nodded, afraid to look at her. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you waited all this time to say anything.”

  “I know,” I said.

  She stayed there for a few more minutes, until we could hear voices, other people coming around the side of the school, taking a graduation-day walk around campus. I quickly wiped my cheeks and stood next to her.

  “I think I know where Jeremy is,” I said. “Or at least where he went after the shooting. I’m going to tell the police. I just wanted you to know first.”

  “Oh my God!” she shouted, wheeling on me, her hands flung up toward the sky. “You knew all this time where Jeremy is? You let me be grilled by the cops, and you let everyone think I… God, David! I thought we were friends.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, standing and facing her, not even bothering to wipe away my tears now. “I don’t blame you for hating me.”

  She held her breath and closed her eyes, then sighed and let her shoulders sag. “I don’t hate you,” she said quietly. “I am so over all the hate.”

  She sat back down on the bench, and I sat next to her. Our shoulders were touching, but we might as well have been a million miles away from each other. Any connection we might have once had was lost.

  “He was wrong,” I said. “About them being mistakes.”

  “What?”

  “Nick. He told me once he thought people like Chris Summers were genetically bad, just mistakes that could be wiped out. But he was wrong, because even after the shooting, there are still cliques and still people hating on each other and…” Chris Summers’s hand reached out to me in my mind. “They were sometimes good, too. They were people, that’s all. Just like us. Nick was wrong. And retaliating against them was pointless. It didn’t change anything.”

  “No. It changed everything,” she said. “Just not the way he expected it to.”

  We looked over the soccer field until the sun had moved and the hair under our caps was damp with sweat. We never spoke another word. And eventually Valerie got up and left, walking back toward the school and leaving me alone on the bleachers.

  It was the last time I saw her.

  A few days later, Dad and I went to the police together. I told them everything I knew, and even Brandon helped fill in the blanks where he could. He swore he never heard Jeremy and Nick talk about any plans in front of him, but he didn’t seem all that surprised to find out Jeremy was involved, either.

  “Dude was psychotic,” he said. “Had all kinds of weapons stashed in his mom’s house. Paranoid as shit. That Nick kid followed him around like a puppy. Shoulda known nothing good would come of it. But he never said nothing to me about it. I’da punched his face in.”

  When we were done, I sat in the passenger seat of my dad’s car, numb, feeling like the whole world was about to fall down on me. Not knowing when it would happen terrified me. I’d seen how the community had treated Valerie when they thought she was the one who was involved. The fallout she’d gotten would probably be nothing compared to what it would be like when what I’d been sitting on came to light. Would I be as strong as Valerie? I wasn’t sure.

  “It’s over,” Dad said before starting up the ignition.

  I made a scoffing noise. He couldn’t possibly really believe that, could he?

  “It’s time to move on, then,” he said. “For everyone.”

  And it seemed like everyone was moving on.

  I had tried to call Valerie from the police station, to tell her it was done, to beg her to forgive me. A part of me was still hopeful that I could fix the gap between us. Maybe, with time, we could start up a little something. She could see how good I could be to her. How different I was from Nick. But her phone had been disconnected.

  Stacey got into college up in northwest Missouri, so she would be leaving at the end of the summer, and Duce got some sort of construction job that sent him down south the day after graduation. I wasn’t there for the breakup, but according to Mason, it was an epic bawlfest.

  Mason was spending every waking second with a girl he’d met at an after-grad party. Bridget was getting an apartment downtown, and Joey, who’d been too high to make it to graduation, had reportedly gotten busted
with a huge amount of weed and was being shipped off to rehab. And who knew where everyone else was headed? Who cared? I didn’t.

  All I cared about was what would happen with me. I’d gotten into community college. I wasn’t too excited about the idea of more school, but I didn’t know what else I would do with my life, so I figured I would go. I had no idea what I wanted to study but thought I’d start with a few psychology classes. Someone once told me that people major in psychology to figure out what’s wrong with themselves. Maybe I could figure out what made me such an easy target. Though I suppose I already knew the answer to that question—easy targets don’t talk. Easy targets don’t turn people in.

  As I sat in my dad’s passenger seat, though, looking at the front of the police station, I couldn’t even think about college, psychology, fixing myself. All I could think about was telling him the one thing I still hadn’t fessed up to. The one thing that scared me, not because I was afraid of external fallout, but because I was afraid of what it meant about me, internally.

  “I put Chris Summers’s name on the list,” I said. “I mean, Nick had already put it on there, but so did I. And he’s dead now, and I don’t know if that was what I was after—I mean, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t—but I still feel responsible, because when I put it there, I hated him so much. God, I hated him.” I punched the dashboard. “Fuck.”

  Dad turned the car key, let his hand fall into his lap. “You didn’t know Nick was going to shoot him,” he said.

  “But I knew it was a hate list.”

  “And Chris Summers knew that attacking you in the locker room was wrong, too. I’m sure if everyone could take back everything, they would.”

  I blinked. Was that true? I knew it was true for me. And I guessed it was true for Valerie. And probably Jessica, given how close she and Val got after the shooting. I wondered if that was what was going on when Chris Summers reached down to help me up. Was he taking it all back? And when I grabbed his hand and let him help me, was I accepting it? I would never know for sure. “It’s too late, though,” I said.

  Dad turned, looked into my eyes, and said, “It’s over, David. This whole thing is over. It’s going to get better now. You have to trust that. Leave the nightmare behind, and trust it.”

  I made the scoffing noise again, but on the inside maybe the tiniest bit of me believed him. Maybe I could leave this behind and trust that things would get better. It was all I had to hang on to. But, for the time being, it was enough.

  [FROM THE GARVIN COUNTY SUN-TRIBUNE MAY 11, 2009, REPORTER ANGELA DASH]

  Suspect in School Shooting Apprehended in Cabin Hideout

  Warsaw, MO—A suspect in the 2008 Garvin High School shooting was arrested today, taken into custody by police, and led out of his cabin hideout in handcuffs. The police who found 22-year-old Jeremy Watson say they were led to the cabin by a tip from a former student of Garvin High School. The tipster was present during the May 2, 2008, shooting spree, and is believed to have been friends with the shooter.

  According to police Watson had been hiding in a relative’s rural cabin since the shooting and was found with multiple weapons, including bullets that police believe match the bullets used by shooter Nick Levil.

  Jack Angerson, principal of Garvin High School, said, “This is the puzzle piece we’ve all been missing. The why and the how. This young man knows why, and he knows how, and hopefully getting him behind bars will make everyone sleep better tonight. I know it will make me sleep better. We all need to do what we can to make sure he pays for his part in this tragedy. And maybe if he can tell us what made Nick Levil snap that day, we can prevent shootings like this from happening in the future.”

  “After Jeremy owns up to the truth of what happened, I suspect there are some people out there who will feel sorry for what they put my family through,” Jenny Leftman, mother of Valerie Leftman, a former suspect in the shooting, said. “It’s too late for that, though. We can’t get our lives back, no matter how much anyone apologizes.”

  Valerie Leftman had no comment.

  Curious about Val’s side of the story?

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Hate List.

  AVAILABLE NOW

  [FROM THE GARVIN COUNTY SUN-TRIBUNE, MAY 3, 2008, REPORTER ANGELA DASH]

  The scene in the Garvin High School cafeteria, known as the Commons, is being described as “grim” by investigators who are working to identify the victims of a shooting spree that erupted Friday morning.

  “We have teams in there going over every detail,” says Sgt. Pam Marone. “We’re getting a pretty clear picture of what went on yesterday morning. It hasn’t been easy. Even some of our veteran officers got pretty shaken up when they walked in there. It’s such a tragedy.”

  The shooting, which began just as students were preparing for their first class, left at least six students dead and countless others wounded.

  Valerie Leftman, 16, was the last victim shot before Nick Levil, the alleged shooter, reportedly turned the gun on himself.

  Hit in the thigh at close range, Leftman required extensive surgery to repair her wounds. Representatives at Garvin County General list her in “critical condition.”

  “There was a lot of blood,” an EMT told reporters on the scene. “He must have hit her artery just right.”

  “She’s very lucky,” the ER nurse on duty confirmed. “She’s got a good chance of surviving, but we’re being really careful. Especially since so many people want to talk to her.”

  Reports by witnesses at the scene of the shooting vary, some claiming Leftman was a victim, others saying she was a hero, still others alleging she was involved in a plan with Levil to shoot and kill students whom they disliked.

  According to Jane Keller, a student who witnessed the shooting, the shot to Leftman appeared to be accidental. “It looked like she tripped and fell into him or something, but I couldn’t tell for sure,” Keller told reporters at the scene. “All I know is it was all over real quick after that. And when she fell on him it gave some people a chance to run away.”

  But police are questioning whether the shot that took down Leftman was an accident or a double suicide gone awry.

  Early reports indicate that Leftman and Levil had discussed suicide in some detail, and some sources close to the couple suggest they talked about homicide as well, leaving police wondering if there is more to the Garvin High shooting than originally thought.

  “They talked about death a lot,” says Mason Markum, a close friend of both Leftman and Levil. “Nick talked about it more than Valerie, but, yeah, Valerie talked about it too. We all thought they were just playing some game, but I guess it was for real. I can’t believe they were serious. I mean, I was just talking to Nick like three hours ago, and he never said anything. Not about this.”

  Whether Leftman’s wounds were intentional or accidental, there is little doubt in the minds of the police that Nick Levil intended to commit suicide after massacring nearly half a dozen Garvin High students.

  “Witnesses at the scene tell us that after he shot Leftman he pointed the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger,” says Marone. Levil was pronounced dead at the scene.

  “It was a relief,” says Keller. “Some kids actually cheered, which I think is kind of wrong. But I guess I can understand why they did it. It was really scary.”

  Leftman’s participation in the shooting is under investigation with Garvin County police. Leftman’s family could not be reached for comment, and police will only divulge that they’re “very interested” in speaking with her at this time.

  ***

  After I ignored the third snooze alarm, my mom started pounding on my door, trying to get me out of bed. Just like any other morning. Only this morning wasn’t just any other morning. This was the morning I was supposed to pick myself up and get on with my life. But I guess with moms, old habits die hard—if the snooze alarm doesn’t do the trick, you start pounding and yelling, whatever kind of morning it is.

  Inste
ad of just yelling at me, though, she started getting that scared quavery sound in her voice that she’d had so often lately. The one that said she wasn’t sure if I was just being difficult or if she should be ready to call 911. “Valerie!” she kept pleading, “You have to get up now! The school is being very lenient letting you back in. Don’t blow it your first day back!”

  Like I would be happy about going back to school. About stepping back into those haunted halls. Into the Commons, where the world as I knew it had crashed to an end last May. Like I hadn’t been having nightmares about that place every single night and waking up sweaty, crying, totally relieved to be in my room again where things were safe.

  The school couldn’t decide if I was hero or villain, and I guess I couldn’t blame them. I was having a hard time deciding that myself. Was I the bad guy who set into motion the plan to mow down half my school, or the hero who sacrificed herself to end the killing? Some days I felt like both. Some days I felt like neither. It was all so complicated.

  The school board did try to hold some ceremony for me early in the summer. Which was crazy. I didn’t mean to be a hero. I wasn’t even thinking when I jumped in between Nick and Jessica. It’s certainly not like I thought, “Here’s my chance to save the girl who used to laugh at me and call me Sister Death, and get myself shot in the process.” By all accounts it was a heroic thing to do, but in my case… well, nobody was really sure.

  I refused to go to the ceremony. Told Mom my leg was hurting too much and I needed some sleep and besides, it was a stupid idea anyway. It was just like the school, I told her, to do something totally lame like that. I wouldn’t go to something so dumb if you paid me, I said.

  But the truth was I was scared of going to the ceremony. I was scared of facing all those people. Afraid they’d all believed everything they’d read about me in the newspaper and seen about me on TV, that I’d been a murderer. That I’d see it in their eyes—You should’ve committed suicide just like him—even if they didn’t say it out loud. Or worse, that they’d make me out to be someone brave and selfless, which would only make me feel more awful than I already did, given that it was my boyfriend who killed all those kids and apparently I made him think I wanted them dead too. Not to mention I was the idiot who had no idea that the guy I loved was going to shoot up the school, even though he basically told me so, like, every day. But every time I opened my mouth to tell Mom those things, all that came out was It’s so lame. I wouldn’t go to something so dumb if you paid me. Guess old habits die hard for everyone.