EIGHT
Pulled the trigger.
I wake up early the next morning, so I check my email and see that I have one from Lonerguy279.
From: Lonerguy279
To: Pinkstar737
Subject: YES. YOU. DATE.
Dear Pinkstar737,
I’ve always imagined that you’re a very pretty girl. You probably just don’t give yourself enough credit. (Though, I can’t be sure of that. For all I know you’re a 400-pound man living in your mom’s basement eating Ho Hos as you read this). But, from the emails we have exchanged, I think you’re pretty awesome. And if a guy doesn’t see that, he’s a moron.
Cam and Giggi sound awesome. But really, what kind of a name is Giggi? Sounds like a go-go dancer name. First impressions don’t mean a thing. I learned that a long time ago.
Now that you’re at college, do you see that it’s not so bad? It sounds like you’re making some good friends. Friends that have the potential to be FAMILY someday. Family doesn’t have to be blood related. Family is a choice. People who say otherwise have obviously never been in a crappy family.
I’m having a good time at college too. I’m glad I decided to come.
Sincerely,
Lonerguy279
I reply right away.
From: Pinkstar737
To: Lonerguy279
Subject: RE: YES. YOU. DATE.
Dear Lonerguy279,
I wish we could talk in person sometimes. I don’t even know your name or what you look like. We’ve had an incredible relationship online for the past year and a half, but I don’t know anything about you. Not REALLY.
Let me see if I can try to guess what you look like.
Blond hair.
Green eyes.
Kind smile.
I bet you’re tall. 6’2”, maybe.
Maybe you’re a loner like me. I can imagine you sitting on a bench with headphones in your ears, people watching. Like I do. Except you are probably much better at it than me.
Or maybe you’re, like, super popular with lots of friends. Do you have a girlfriend? We’ve never discussed that kind of stuff before. If you do, I bet she hates you emailing me.
As you know, I don’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t exactly been asked out by a lot of guys, but I also haven’t put myself out there. I have too much baggage. It wouldn’t be fair to ask somebody to put up with it. Maybe someday a guy will sweep me off my feet, but probably not for a long time. After many more years of therapy.
Sincerely,
Pinkstar737
I shut the lid to my laptop and head to the coffee shop to get my morning caffeine fix.
…
“My family loved you,” Cam tells me when we hang out that afternoon. We’re hanging out in Micah’s dorm room. He’s playing something softly on his acoustic guitar, but mostly just messing around. There is no rhyme or reason to it.
“They asked enough questions,” I say.
“You met Cam’s family?” Micah asks, looking up from his guitar.
“Last night.”
“Are you two dating or something?” he asks.
“No,” I answer.
“I just wanted her to meet my family,” Cam says.
“I had a lot of fun,” I tell Cam. “I completely misjudged your sister. She’s a pretty awesome person.”
“She’s prissy, but under all her make up, she’s a nice girl,” he says.
“I was just like her in high school.”
Micah and Cam both look at me with their mouths open.
“I can’t imagine you wearing make up,” Micah says. “Or fixing your hair.”
I roll my eyes. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
My hair is currently down, how I always wear it. I push a strand behind my ear.
“I like your hair,” Cam says. “And you don’t need makeup.”
“Yeah, but I’m just trying to picture you as a girly girl,” Micah says.
“I was actually a cheerleader,” I say. “I was even asked to prom by the quarterback.”
My chest tightens.
Memories start flooding back to me. Because even though I have a lot of good memories, the bad ones far outweigh the good ones. I can still picture that day in my head. I remember every single detail about it, from start to finish.
They say some people block out traumatic experiences. Their brains can’t remember. But I can’t forget. I so wish I could.
“Are you okay? You look pale,” Micah asks.
I try to breathe, but can’t seem to. It physically hurts my lungs as I try to force air into them.
Micah and Cam both move towards me.
“Isla, breathe,” Micah says.
I’m trying to!
But I can’t say the words.
Cam puts his hands on each side of my face, which forces me to look at his blue eyes.
“In. Out. In. Out,” he says, breathing with me.
I push the memories away.
The screams fade.
The blood is gone.
All I see are Cam’s eyes—the color of a summer sky.
The panic is gone and I’m okay. Most of the time, when I have a panic attack, I end up passing out and wake a few minutes later with a horrible headache.
“What makes you panic like that?” Micah asks.
I turn to look at him.
“First, you freaked out that day because I asked you why you hate the color pink. And today, because you talked about prom. Did something bad happen to you?” he asks.
“Everybody died,” I say. “Except me.”
“What do you mean?” Micah asks. His voice is tight and his face is scrunched up. He’s clearly confused, but most of all, he’s worried.
I open my mouth to talk, but I can’t. I feel warm tears run down my face. I didn’t even realize that I was crying.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Cam says. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want.”
I don’t want to.
But I can’t stop the words from pouring out.
I’ve been holding it inside for so long and I need to tell somebody.
“There was… this guy,” I say, starting out. “He was my friend. I mean, everybody was my friend. I was popular, I guess. I hung out with the cheerleaders and the jocks. But my friends weren’t always as nice as me. They liked to make fun of the other kids. Especially this one boy in particular, Derek Miller. I always stood up for him. I would eat lunch with him sometimes, just so he wouldn’t have to eat alone. And I would always volunteer to be his partner in class. All my friends thought I was weird because of it, but I didn’t care. Derek and I had a lot in common. He was an awesome guy.
“This one day, my friends were picking on him during PE. I don’t even remember what happened, but my friends were so mean. I stood up for Derek. I walked him to all of his classes that day because I was so scared that my friends who try to bully him again. It was out of control.
“I should have told somebody about it, but I knew if I did then I wouldn’t have any friends. They would turn on me. Maybe they would even start bullying me, I don’t know. Which was stupid, because my stepbrother never would’ve allowed that. I just should’ve…” I pause, taking a breath. “After the incident in PE, Derek skipped school for a few days. The day he came back, he was really quiet. I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t want to talk to me. I understood why. I mean, the things they said to him we’re awful. I decided to give him a little space, but I wasn’t going to give up on him. He was my friend.
“That afternoon, after school was over, my friends and I were hanging out in the teacher’s lounge. The teachers didn’t mind us hanging out in there. We were waiting for cheer practice and football practice to start, and we were discussing prom. My best friend, Olivia, was head of the prom committee, so we were talking about the theme and the band. It was just a normal afternoon. I was excited, because the guy I liked had finally asked me to prom. We were flirting. And I didn’t even notice anybody else had walked into the classroom.
“I didn’t know anything until I heard the first shot. I stood there in horror as Derek Miller shot and killed all of my friends, one by one. There were twelve of us in that room. I just stood there, waiting for my turn. I didn’t try to hide, because hiding wouldn’t help. There was nowhere to hide—nowhere to run. And I just knew he was going to turn the gun on me.
“He wouldn’t shoot anybody who was standing close to me. I didn’t notice at the time, but looking back I realize that now. Derek never planned on shooting me. He saved my best friend, Olivia, for last. I think he hated her most of all. She cried and begged him not to do it, but he pulled the trigger without even flinching. After he shot her, he looked at me and said ‘I love you, Isla McAdams. You’re not cruel like the rest of them. That is why you get to live. Don’t ever change.’ Then he turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger.
“I still remember the blood covering me from head to toe. My favorite pink dress was drenched. I wasn’t even sure whose blood it was. I think it was a mixture. And I know my friends were wrong. They shouldn’t have picked on Derek, but they were my friends. They weren’t always cruel. They could be nice too.”
I look up, first at Micah, who has a look of horror on his face, then at Cam who has tears running down his own face.
“Everybody, aside from me and Olivia, died. But Olivia is as good as dead. She’s been in a comma for the past year and a half,” I say. “I spent my senior year of high school in therapy. I actually spent a few months in a mental institution. I wanted to be dead too.”
“What helped you get better?” Micah asks, after a moment of silence. His voice is naturally high as he asks the question.
“Longerguy279.”
“What?” he asks.
“My therapist got me into this program. I email this guy back and forth. I guess he’s had something horrible happen to him too,” I say. “We don’t ever talk about what happened though. We just talk about normal things. Like music and my crazy family. Without him, I don’t think I would’ve made it.”
“I’m sorry about everything you’d had to go through,” Cam tells me. “Nobody should ever have to live through the horror you have.”
“I’m okay,” I say. “I didn’t think I would be at one point. But every single day I get better. I didn’t want to come here, to college, but I’m glad I did. Meeting you two… having real friends… it’s helped me a lot. So now you guys know my story and we can move on. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. I am not going to let it define my life. I can’t. Not anymore.”
“Good,” Micah says. “I’m glad you chose to come to college. Life here wouldn’t be the same if you hadn’t stalked me my first day here.”
“Stalked?” Cam asks, looking between us.
“I was people watching,” I clarify.
“She uses that as an excuse,” Micah says. “She was totally checking me out.”
Cam and I both laugh.
Micah is adorable in a nerd kind of way. But he’s kind of tall and scrawny. Not like Cam.
Not that I’m checking Cam out.
I absolutely cannot cross that line with him. It would be easy, but there is no way a guy like him would be interested in a girl like me. So, I lock away my attraction before it can turn into something more.
Camden and I—we’re never going to happen.