by Eli Easton
But. I’d held it together. And that was something.
“I survived it,” I answered. “Thanks for, you know, distracting me and everything. And lunch. I really didn’t want to go to the cafeteria.”
“We need to stick together now. Right?” Landon looked very serious. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands, looking forward. It seemed like he was going to say something more, but he stopped.
I stared out the side window as we passed a news van. There was only the one, and a lone cameraman filmed the procession of cars. How long would it take before the world forgot about The Wall? Before they moved on to the next tragedy? The next school shooting.
After a bit, Landon asked, “Want me to pick you up tomorrow morning, same time?”
I shouldn’t take advantage of him. But he smiled like he meant it, and let’s be real. Being with him took the edge off my fear and anxiety. I don’t know why it did. Maybe because he’d saved my life and the annoying little Gollum in my head had decided that meant Landon was a safeguard against whatever. Or maybe I just liked being around him, liked him, and that distracted me from all the bad stuff in my head.
Could we be friends? In the past, that would have been weird. Brian Marshall hanging out with Landon Hughes. But nothing was the same at school, anyway. Maybe this was my chance to hang out with Landon. To change the routine I’d been locked into.
Wow. That sounded good to me. Really, really good.
“If that’s cool with you,” I said. “But I can find another ride home. It’s silly for you to come back to get me when you have early dismissal.”
His cheeks turned slightly pink, and he bit his lip. “My online class ends at two thirty, and I’m always in the mood for a break anyway.”
“Dude, no. I’ll find another way home.”
“Okay.” Landon shrugged.
We rode in silence for a few minutes. I wasn’t very good at small talk. I sometimes said awkward things. Which was what I did now.
“So. Your parents were okay when you came out?” I asked.
Ugh. That was cringeworthy.
Landon raised an eyebrow as if he was surprised by the question, but he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Yeah. I mean, I think my mom would have liked to have another female in the family, like a daughter-in-law. But they played it cool when I told them. My parents are both really supportive of gay rights.”
“That’s awesome.” I couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. “What do they do?”
“My mom is CFO for this little tech start-up. And my dad’s an engineer. He works at the same company, but they were already married when they started working there.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“What about yours?”
“Um. My dad is a car salesman, and my mom mostly stays home. She sells stuff on eBay and Etsy and volunteers at her church.”
We didn’t say anything for a few minutes. But I was still curious, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “So were they weird the first time you actually brought someone home, though?”
“Well.” He blinked. “I haven’t, um, done that yet.”
“You haven’t had a boyfriend?” I was surprised. Landon was so confident and out there. And he was cute. I figured he’d probably dated older guys.
He glanced at me, his cheeks getting a little pink. “I’m not, you know… totally inexperienced? But I’ve never had a ‘boyfriend.’ Per se.” He made air quotes with one hand, keeping the other on the wheel. “Not someone you’d bring home.” He cleared his throat.
“Oh. Was it someone at school? The ‘not boyfriend’?” I air quoted him back. “Or, you know, do you do that Grindr app thing?”
He laughed.
“What?” I asked, smiling.
He shook his head. “I just find it funny that straight people are always so curious about gay life.”
I didn’t say anything, but I felt my cheeks burn. “Sorry.”
“Nope. I don’t mind. Really.” He looked over and gave me a genuine smile. “I, um, don’t do Grindr. The guy I went out with graduated last year.”
“Who? I mean, never mind. If he’s not out yet—”
“He’s out. Well, he is now that he’s in college. Dillon Spencer. Did you know him?”
I nodded slowly. I remembered a guy with red hair and brown eyes, sort of shy and nerdy. “Wow. I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t a big long thing.”
I laughed. “Oh really? Poor Dillon.”
His eyes widened. “The relationship, I mean. We went out a few times. Instead of going to prom last year, he took me out to a nice restaurant. So.” He glanced over at me again. “What about you? You were dating a cheerleader, right? Jennifer Smith? What happened with that?”
I blew out a breath. “She flirted with all the football players before we got together. And then after we got together. Which was sort of a problem. And then she did more than flirt.” I shrugged. “I think she only went out with me because she wanted to date the quarterback.”
“Oh, come on. You’re the hottest guy in school.”
I gave him a slow grin. “Yeah? Is that your honest opinion?” I nudged his elbow with mine.
He went bright red. “Shut up,” he said with a huff. “As if it’s a state secret. I’m just saying what everyone else says.”
I loved that he was embarrassed. I’d never seen him like that. So of course I had to turn the blade. “Yeah. Sure. Of course you are. I get it.”
He gave me a glare. “You suck.”
“You wish,” I said and laughed my ass off.
So maybe the first day back at school wasn’t all bad.
THAT NIGHT at dinner my mom made my favorite dish—oven-baked chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. I knew she was trying to make me feel better. When she called me down to supper, I said, “Thanks, Mom.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, giving me a quick hug. “Now, I pureed some chicken breast real fine, so you should be able to eat a little of it. And I made the gravy the way you like it.”
“Guess what, Bri?” Lisa said. “There’s chocolate cake for dessert.”
“Yum,” I said, even though I still could hardly eat.
I pinched Lisa’s chin as I sat down. It was pointy and cute and totes pinchable. She rolled her eyes, but her smile told a different story. We didn’t have anything in common, Lisa and me. She could be annoying as fuck, but most of the time she was okay. She was a kick-ass game player. Like, I wouldn’t even play Monopoly with the family anymore because Lisa was ruthless, and it’s depressing to be beaten by a thirteen-year-old.
I appreciated her more since the shooting. And my parents. But at the same time, my life felt unreal to me. It was as though I’d taken one step to the left of my body and was just observing the life of an all-American teenager.
Had I ever been that guy? I wasn’t so sure.
“How was school today?” my dad asked after my mom said grace.
Lisa handed me the bowl of mashed potatoes with a curious look. “Ugh. Bet it was gross. I don’t know how you can stand it.”
“Lisa, eat your dinner and mind your own business,” my dad said with a huff. “Brian? Did it go all right?”
“Um. It was hard.” I wasn’t going to sit there and say it was a picnic.
“I thought the mashed potatoes and gravy would be easy on your tummy, honey. Can you try to eat some, please?” my mom said in a quiet voice.
I gave her a tight smile and put some gravy on my plate.
“What was hard about it?” my dad asked.
“Can we just let the kids eat?” my mom asked nicely. “I want Brian to get a good meal in his system, and it won’t help him to get upset.”
“Can I not talk to my own son at the dinner table?” My dad’s voice had a touch of anger.
My mom looked unhappy, but she closed her mouth tight.
Great. My dad must have had a shitty day at work, or maybe one of his talk shows had worked him up. He was in a m
ood. Of course he was. Because today hadn’t sucked enough already.
I was too raw to deal. My temper flared. “Well, I was shot there. In that school. So it doesn’t exactly feel safe to me.”
My dad nodded thoughtfully. “Uh-huh. I can see that. But just remember, nowhere is safe. Riding in a car isn’t safe. Or a gas line could explode and take out our house tomorrow. There’s no point dwelling on it, son. Best not to think about it. All you need to worry about are your classes and getting back into top shape. Let the people who know what’s what worry about the rest of it.”
His tone had softened, like he was trying to give me good fatherly advice. I stirred my mashed potatoes around with a spoon and didn’t say anything.
“They have extra cops at the school, I heard.”
I nodded. “Yeah. They do.”
He grunted. “Well, thank God for that, at least. What they really need are armed guards there all the time. Should have had ’em before. Better yet, arm the teachers.”
I blinked at him. “So you haven’t changed your mind about guns at all? After it happened to my school? To me? I almost died.”
My dad looked confused. “I know that, Brian. That’s why the truth needs to come out. But if teachers were armed, if people weren’t such sheep, they wouldn’t get away with this false-flag bullshit.”
“False-flag…. What?” I gaped at him. Heat rose in my throat, but I wouldn’t cry. No fucking way. He was still all about his radio shows. Only this time it was me, my school, my body he was listening to conspiracy theories about. It felt like a stab in the back.
“Come on now,” my mother soothed. “This was Brian’s first day back at school, and it’ll take some time for things to calm down. Can we please eat in peace?”
It was like my dad didn’t even hear her. “Of course it was a setup, Brian. For goodness’ sake. How many times have they not caught a school shooter? Zero times, that’s how many. The whole point is to be famous. So suddenly the whole pattern changes? No way. Those were professional military guys paid for by the deep state. They want to turn the public against the Second Amendment, so they can take our guns. And they don’t give a flying leap how many kids they have to kill to do it!”
My voice was barely there. “Dad, that’s not true. The police think the shooters were students. Students, and they’re—”
“Bullpucky. Did you recognize them? The gunmen?”
I hesitated, that invisible weight bearing down on my chest. “I… didn’t get a good look.”
Detective Mike had asked me that too. And for the first time I realized how weird it was that I hadn’t even tried to look.
A thread of guilt spun out of all the other darkness inside me. I should have looked at the shooters so I could identify them. But I’d been too busy cowering with my eyes closed. Cowering. Hiding in my little nook while other kids were being shot.
Holy shit. I’d cowered because I was a coward. All those videos you see in YouTube and stuff about people being all brave and rescuing animals or other people in dicey situations? I was the opposite of that.
“Well, if you didn’t see them, how do you know they were students?” my dad asked. “They could have been FBI or antifa or special forces. You think two kids could have executed a plan like that? In and out before the cops even got there and over forty dead? Huh-uh. No way.”
Bile rose, burning my throat, my eyes. “S’cuse me.” I lurched away from the table.
“Brian!” my mom cried out with exasperation.
But I was already out of the room.
Chapter 12
Landon
I WAS worried about Brian. The rest of the week I picked him up in the morning, walked with him to all his morning classes, and he ate lunch with me, Madison, and Josiah out at the football field. Even when it rained on Wednesday, we met out there and found a spot underneath the bleachers. I think we all appreciated getting out of that building for a while. Every afternoon I drove back to The Wall at 3:05 p.m. to meet him in the south parking lot and give him a ride home.
Brian never again mentioned getting a ride home from someone else, and I didn’t bring it up, either. I wanted to pick him up, be there to support him, and I wasn’t going to overthink it.
We got a lot of stares when we walked together in the hall or pulled into the parking lot. Mostly, I think everyone felt sorry for Brian. I’d done an interview on camera the day of the shooting, standing out in the parking lot covered with blood and in total shock. My voice shaking, I’d explained how I’d just held a kid’s guts inside him, surrounded by dead bodies. And that clip had been shown on national news. A lot. Blood and circuses, I guess. High drama. I think by now, everyone at school had figured out that kid was Brian Marshall. So while they stared at us, there was silent support. Like, people moved out of the way and watched us go by like we were heroes or something. There were a lot of sympathetic smiles.
Hi, Brian. Hi, Landon.
It was weird.
On Friday morning, a bunch of cheerleaders, including Brian’s ex, Jennifer, were outside when we got out of the car near A-Wing. They came over and abducted Brian, linking their arms through his and walking away with him. But at least Jennifer turned to look at me and gave me a grateful smile.
Sure. No worries. Have fun with the boy.
Maybe they’d cheer him up. God knows, I wasn’t entirely cutting it.
Brian didn’t seem to be feeling any easier about being at school. When we walked down the hall, he looked through people, always scanning down the hallway or looking back over his shoulder. If there was a loud noise, he jumped. Sometimes his hands shook or there was a sheen of sweat on his face that shouldn’t be there. It was hard watching him struggle with that fear. It made me feel more protective of him, more determined to be there for him.
So far, I’d managed to keep up with my classwork, mostly because my classes at The Wall were a cakewalk this year, and deadlines had been pushed back because of the shooting. Thank God they weren’t more challenging, because the last thing on my mind right now was academics. My brain was completely obsessed with gun control. I’d read everything I could grab or google on gun laws, protests, what other country’s stats were like, and where various politicians in the state and federal government stood on the issues. We talked about it every day at lunch. Madison and Josiah were equally fired up, and it had pretty much taken over our time together.
Brian always listened while we had our animated discussions. But he rarely said anything.
Yeah, I was worried. While part of me loved the way his gaze sought me out, the relief on his face when he saw me, I knew it said nothing good about his mental state. He looked even more gaunt now than he had at Jake’s funeral. He never ate more than a bite of his lunch. And there were dark circles under his eyes like he wasn’t sleeping.
You know what? It was beyond cruel to make him go back into that building. If Brian were my kid, I’d let him home study. Because forcing someone to face their fears might be good therapy in some situations, but Brian just seemed to be withdrawing and getting worse. And it really pissed me off.
On Thursday afternoon when I picked him up, Brian said no more than “hey” as he got in the car. Not good.
“Hey. I was gonna see if you were hungry. We could drive through Wendy’s if you want. I have a ridiculous jones for a Frosty.”
Brian smiled. “Seriously? A Frosty? I haven’t had one of those since I was, like, five.”
“Oh, man, they’re so good. Wanna try one?”
Brian thought about it. He nodded. His smile had faded, but his eyes looked a little more alert than they had been.
“Cool.”
We pulled out of the parking lot, and I headed for the Wendy’s on the west side of town. “I, um, live near there. The Wendy’s. You mentioned my early dismissal. Wanna come over and see how I take college credits? Maybe you’ll want to do it next year.”
It was a lame excuse. Wanna come up and see my etchings? But it was the only t
hing I’d been able to come up with.
“You do it from home?”
“Yeah. There are a lot of online classes you can take for credit without being matriculated. And the credits will transfer.”
“Okay. We can go to your place.”
“Cool.”
Both of us acted like it was the biggest nonevent in the history of the world. But it felt sort of significant.
At Wendy’s, I ordered a chocolate Frosty and large fries, and Brian said “same.” I was glad to see him eating some of the fries as I drove to my house. And when he took a bite of the Frosty he looked at me with wide eyes.
“Good, right?” I said.
“Awesome. How do you stay so skinny?”
I tried not to feel offended. It was nothing but the truth. “My genes. Wait ’til you meet my mom. She’s tiny.”
“Not me, man. But guess I don’t need to worry about it since I’m not playing football.” Brian took another spoonful and looked out the window.
And because you look like you haven’t eaten in a month, I thought. I kept that to myself.
My parents were both at work, so we had the house to ourselves. I took Brian up to my room and showed him a few sites that listed online college courses and how it worked. They had live video of the classrooms and a forum for interacting with the prof and other students. He appeared really interested.
“So, hypothetically, you could go to college and never leave your house?” he asked, leaning over my desk to study my computer while I sat in the chair.
Never leave the house? Dude. No.
“Um… I think there are some colleges that offer purely online degrees. In stuff like business. But they’re not—I mean, you want to go away to college, don’t you?”
“Maybe. If it means getting away from my dad.” Brian’s voice was tight.
My desk was against the window. Our house was sort of small, but it had a deep lawn that ran downhill to the river. Brian’s gaze kept shifting to look out there, his body tense.
