Page 119 of Fighting the Odds

“So it’s over. He’s gone. He’ll never be able to hurt me again.” A sudden peace washes over me and I smile happily.

Not for the loss of a life, but for the abolishment of a monster.

“Now what?” I ask.

“Now we rest and cuddle up in bed all day,” Braxton says as he sits down beside me.

“I don’t think my bed is big enough for five people.” I laugh.

“We’re going to have to find a bigger bed then.” Zander winks.

I smile when I see someone has moved the television from the living room into my bedroom and set it on the dresser. Cyrus’s laptop is beside it. I see a movie day in the plans.

“Not that I don’t like seeing you, but why aren’t you in school? Isn’t your dad going to be mad?” I ask, my eyes already growing heavy.

“We kind of told him we were upset about Wes’s father’s death. And we came over here to tell you since you weren’t feeling well. A little white lie, but it got us out of school.”

“Okay. Do y’all mind if I go back to sleep for a little bit?”

“No,” they all say in unison, and my eyes close immediately.

I’m in and out of sleep for the rest of the day. Arizona stopped by with Bash to say goodbye and check on me.

When I tried to apologize for what happened, she wouldn’t hear it.

“I knew it was going to happen. We accounted for that in the plan,” she told me.

That should’ve made me feel better, but it didn’t.

The only thing that does is knowing Mr. Johnson will never hurt anyone else ever again.

My stomach is twisted in knots on the way to school.

I’m counting down the days until I graduate. Arizona and I talked about why I still wanted to go back when I hated it so much instead of getting a GED, and I couldn’t come up with why. But this morning, as I was getting dressed, it dawned on me.

My mom’s dream was watching me walk across the stage and receiving my diploma. That’s my reason. I want to do that for her, even if she won’t be able to see it.

Pulling into the parking lot, we see a line of police cars.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“No clue.” Braxton shrugs.

Wesley sent me a message last night apologizing again from yet another number. I didn’t need to have it programmed to know who it was. Changing my number is starting to sound really good. He let me know he wouldn’t be at school for a couple weeks, needing to be with his mom after his father’s death.

I thought about responding for a brief moment, then I changed my mind, deleting it.

“Come on, let’s see if we can find out what’s going on.”

As we get closer to the building, you can hear chatter from the students.

“Did you hear they have Savannah in the office?” I overhear someone say.

We keep walking, not stopping to question, but something is definitely going on.

Groups have formed in the hallway, heads bent together as they whisper.

My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of my pocket.

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