NINETEEN
What ifs.
Olivia died seconds after they took her off life support. The days following were hard. The worst of it was attending her funeral. Nobody likes funerals, but when it’s for your childhood best friend… well, it’s worse.
The church was packed full of people. There were a lot from my old high school. None of them talked to me, which I was glad about. Scott came with me. Cam didn’t, but he didn’t know her, so it probably would’ve been weird for him.
The funeral was beautiful, which is so weird to say. But they had all these pictures of Olivia lining the front—her in her cheerleading uniform, her as a baby, and even one of me and her. Along with the pictures, there were so many flowers. All of them were purple, her favorite color. She would have approved.
I took a few days after the funeral to grieve and then Scott and I came back to campus. It’s been a week now, and things are going back to somewhat normal. It’s just… different. Even though Olivia has been gone a long time, somehow her dying just solidified that fact.
Tonight is Friday night, and I am riding with Cam to Savannah, Georgia. I’m excited to see where he lives when he’s not at school. But I’m also nervous. I feel like I’m intruding on family time.
Cam has been acting weird the last few weeks—since he went with Scott and me to Atlanta. And I get it. It was a lot. Me going to see my friend that was dying was pretty intense. So I’ve been trying to give him some space so he can process. It’s just I miss him when he’s not around.
“Are you okay?” I ask Cam after thirty minutes of sitting in silence. I don't mind the quiet, really. I just really want to talk to him. About anything. Even something as mundane as the weather.
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“I don't know,” I say. “I guess you've just been acting weird since Atlanta. I just want to make sure I didn't scare you away with all my… baggage.”
“Never,” he says. “I've just been dealing with stuff of my own.”
“You can talk to me,” I say. “If anybody can understand emotional trauma, it's me.”
“Soon I will,” he says. “I just… want to enjoy my time with you.”
“Okay,” I say, despite the fact that I am frustrated.
I understand. Really, I do. Most days, I find it hard to even get out of bed, but I force myself to because that is what I have to do. I have to keep living. And every single day, it gets a little easier to breathe.
Maybe something beautiful can come out of all this, like Dr. Sanchez said.
“How are you?” Cam asks me. “I mean, you went to your best friend’s funeral last week, so you can’t be doing that great.”
“I’m okay, surprisingly,” I say. “I didn’t get to go to the funeral for all my other friends. I was in a psych ward, high on anxiety pills. So this funeral felt like I was getting to say goodbye to everybody, not just Olivia. It was closure. I feel like I’m finally ready to move forward instead of staying stuck in this one, horrible day in my life, you know?”
“Yeah, I understand,” he says.
I feel like he really does understand. Maybe that’s why we clicked. Different situations, but loss causes a pain that can’t be filled. Yet somehow, when I’m with Cam, that hole feels a little smaller, the ache is easier, and I feel like I can breathe.
“I just feel like I can finally move on. Since moving here, I'm no longer the girl that survived the horrible massacre. I'm just Isla, the weird, loner girl that sometimes stares at random people. I can live with that though.”
“You're right,” Cam says. “That's why my family and I moved to Savannah. We wanted a fresh start. Sometimes I think Savannah wasn't far enough. Maybe we should've moved to another country.”
“But then you would've never met me,” I say, grinning at him. “And think how boring your life would be without me.”
“You're right,” he says. “Most days I think meeting you is the best thing that's ever happened to me.”
“Most days?”
“Some days, I feel like meeting you is the worst thing that's happened to me,” he says.
The best and worst?
I'm not sure what to make of what he's saying. It does hurt my feelings, but I feel like there is a double meaning… and maybe I don't understand what he's saying enough to really be “offended” by it. So I decide to just let it go. I want this to be a fun weekend and I am not going to let my own hurt feelings get in the way.
“Well, is today a best thing or worst thing kind of day?” I ask.
He glances from the road towards me, just for a second, then he looks back at the road. “Definitely the best.”
“Okay,” I say.
At least there is that.
“I'm sorry if what I said hurt your feelings,” Cam says. “Giggi tells me that I'm brutally honest sometimes.”
“You shouldn't be ashamed of telling the truth,” I say. “But why would meeting me be the worst? I mean, I don't get it. Did I do something wrong?”
“No. You're perfect. More than perfect. And I suppose that is the problem. I feel like I don't deserve a friend that is as kind as you,” he says. “Meeting you that night had to be fate though, right?”
“I guess. I don't think anything really happens by coincidence,” I say.
“Exactly. So it has to mean something,” he says.
“It does mean something,” I say. “Since I met you, I’ve come out of my shell so much. You and Micah are the first ones I told about… everything. And if that hadn’t happened, where would I have been when I found out the pen pal I’ve been writing to for the past year and a half has been my brother? And what would’ve happened when they took Olivia off life support. Before I met you, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to face any of that. I was completely broken.”
“And now?”
“Still broken but slowly getting glued back together,” I say.
“I think that you are stronger than you have ever imagined,” Cam says. “You’re stronger than I am.”
“I doubt that,” I say. “I’ll always be broken to a certain extent. But maybe broken isn’t the right word. Maybe bent is a better word to use. I’ll never be able to go back to my original shape, but I’m stronger now, maybe even better because of it. I wish it hadn’t happened, but it did. And all I can do is accept it, which I have.”
“And that is why you’re stronger than me. The things that’s happened to me and to my family—I don’t know how to accept it. I can’t accept it,” he says. “And I want to tell you. So badly, I do. But I know that if you find out, you won’t want anything to do with me anymore.”
“Cam, I don’t think there is anything that could cause me to not be friends with you,” I say. “I don’t know what it is that you did that you think is so bad, but it can’t be that bad. I know you. You’re a kind person.”
“I worry about that sometimes… that I’m not good. I mean, look at my family—my dad and mom are messed up people. And… well… anyway, I just worry that I’m going to end up like them,” he says. “I want to be a good person.”
“You don’t wake up one day and decide to not be a good person,” I say. “It’s something that happens over a long period of time. Just little things here and there until you’re bad. So don’t worry about that.”
“Do you think Derek was a bad person?” Cam asks.
“I should answer yes, but I don’t think he was,” I say. “He was a sixteen-year-old boy who was bullied and hurt and confused. I don’t know what his home life was like. Maybe he didn’t come from a happy home. Maybe there were a lot of things that made him snap… But there were warning signs, right? There had to be.”
“Maybe,” Cam says. “Is there anything you regret not doing?”
“Of course. I wish I had stood up for him more. I wish I would’ve told a teacher what was going on,” I say. “I invited him out often to hang out. He even came to my house once to play videos games with me and Scott. But I wish I had invited him more often or pushed him to come when he said no. I wish I could’ve been a better friend for him. But it’s too late to think about those things now. All I can do is be a better friend to who is in my life now.”
“I’m glad you were his friend, though,” Cam says. “You tried, which is more than probably a lot of people did.”
“Maybe. Or maybe not,” I say. “Maybe Derek Miller was just a sick person and no matter what anybody would’ve done it wouldn’t have made a difference. Maybe if it was the right day at the right time, he would’ve shot me too. There is a lot of what ifs that I have gone over a thousand times in my head, but the truth is, I will never know.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he says. “You wanna put on some music?”
I smile. “You don’t mind K-Pop?”
Cam laughs, which is something I haven’t heard in a few weeks. “Put on whatever makes you happy.”
And I do.
I rap along to my favorite lines, knowing that I sound terrible. And we both laugh and have fun.
I’ve missed this with Cam. Hopefully now we will be able to move past whatever has been holding us back.