Page 72 of We Thought We Were Invincible
When our exam was over, she stood and made her way to the door, an obvious slowness to her movements.
In the halls, just as in the town, we were divided. Those who were there and those who weren't. A line had been drawn. Everyone who'd stayed home, talked about it and stared, but they'd never know. Not really.
That evening when I was working, I felt eyes on me wherever I moved. I hadn't only been there, I'd been one of the missing nine that the town agonized over for an hour before we were found. It was a celebrity I didn't want.
The muttering started in the booths nearest to the door, spreading across the diner. I turned from where I was refilling sugar packets. Seth's large frame stood in the doorway. He looked around nervously. It was his first time back since that night.
He didn't take his usual spot at the counter, instead opting for a booth that was tucked away in the corner, out of sight of prying eyes. He slumped forwards, burying his face in his hands.
I should have gone over there. He held no more blame than anyone. So, why couldn't I make my feet move? Before I got the chance, Kat brushed by me, mug of coffee in hand. She set it down in front of Seth, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and sat across from him.
She didn't leave his table until he was done and ready to leave.
Walking toward me, her eyes said it all. “That poor man.”
“I don't know how you do it,” I said.
“Do what?”
“Be so damn nice all the time.”
“Callie.” She forced me to stop what I was doing. “That's not being nice. It's called being human.”
Seth returned to his normal routine, stopping in for dinner each evening. The rest of us tried to live our lives as we had before. Exams went as good as could be expected. The new semester started without much fanfare.
Talk at school turned from school shooting to graduation and college. Matthew and Troy were left out of our words, but it wasn't so easy with our thoughts.
Morgan remained aloof, at times cruel, to the people she once cared about.
Jamie and I were together, but the things I'd said to him constantly hung between us, a barrier to break through. The weeks passed, and we all put on the act, though in truth, we weren't the same people we were before.
College brochures piled up on my desk, a not-so-subtle nudge from Kat, but I ignored it. The future was not something I could think about.
28
Jamie
What dude wears makeup? This one apparently. I coughed and sputtered as one of my dad's secretaries brushed powder across my cheeks. Again. This was the third interview I'd had to attend in the two months since December. I never said anything. I was an ornament, there to remind the people that my dad was just like them. He too had been touched by tragedy.
He was using me, using what happened to us, for political gain. It should have bothered me, but all I knew was that he hadn't hit me since it happened. He hadn't yelled or made me feel like I wasn't wanted in his family. In fact, for the first time in my life, it felt like he wanted me. Me. Not Jay. I'd always been the son in the background. The one he didn't want everyone knowing about because I represented what he'd done.
I followed a step behind my father as he walked up to the podium. I blinked as cameras flashed bright and blinding. Reporters spoke one on top of another, but my father's press secretary was able to calm them down enough to get the questions one at a time. My father expertly answered a few before the big one came.
“Congressman Daniels,” the reporter said. “Is it true that you're planning a run for the US Senate?”
I couldn't see his face, but I could picture my dad's smile. The one he saved for the cameras. His back shook as he chuckled in his scripted way.
“Now, Linda. You just had to go and steal my thunder.”
There was a rumble of laughter from the crowd.
“It's true. Today I am announcing a run for the US Senate. But don't you folks worry, my job in the state senate isn't finished and I will continue to work for all of you during this campaign.”
“One more question.” The press secretary nodded at a man in the back. “Paul.”
“Thank you,” Paul said, rising to his feet. His eyes weren't focused on my father, however, they seared into me. “Your son was part of the missing nine at the tragedy that occurred at Gulf City High and we are so thankful they were all found. But you have as of yet failed to tell us how you plan to combat future events such as this. What will your campaign say about guns in schools?”
I wiped my sweaty palms against my slacks, feeling the weight of my father's impending answer hanging in the room.
