EPILOGUE: One Year Later
- 32 - Lily Chu
I got invited back for the second Hall of Fame ceremony—they’re inducting Principal Weede and Dr. Flick, and completing the presentations from the first year—but I’m going to college in Minneapolis, and it’s midterms that week, so I won’t be able to make it, which is totally fine with me. I don’t ever want to set foot in that auditorium again for as long as I live.
Most of the time I’m okay; I don’t even think about what happened that night. It helps being in a new place, surrounded by people who’ve never even heard of Green Meadow High School. I did tell my roommate; I kind of had to. I was having nightmares at the beginning of first semester, and woke up screaming a few times. I also confided in this girl I was seeing in the fall—it didn’t work out between us, and I regret sharing my secret with her—but otherwise I’ve kept it to myself. It feels wrong to turn it into an anecdote, like, Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I almost got murdered?
It’s over between me and Clem. Not because we wanted to break up, but just because it’s too complicated right now. They’re doing a junior year abroad in Australia, and even when they get back to Wesleyan, it’s not like we’re going to be able to get together for the weekend. We still FaceTime every once in a while, but it’s hard with the time difference, and a little awkward, like we’re slowly turning into strangers. But whatever happens, they were my first love, and I’ll never forget them. Clem helped me to understand who I am, and made me a braver person, and I’ll always be grateful for that.
My mom and I never actually talked about Clem, or my sexuality in general. She just gave me a really stern look before we said goodbye at the end of drop-off.
“No dating,” she said. “You focus on your schoolwork.”
“And no frat parties,” my father added.
We were standing right outside my dorm, with lots of other people around. We did a big family hug right out there on the lawn, all three of us, which was completely out of character. We’d never been big huggers, especially not in public. But we were different after the Hall of Fame. You can’t live through something like that and stay the same.
I emailed Front Desk Diane and told her how sorry I was to miss the second ceremony, but she told me not to worry about it.
It’s fine, honey. And you already gave me the plaque.
It was true: I was still holding on to it when she pulled me off the stage, out of the line of fire. I didn’t see anyone get shot, because we were lying flat on the floor behind the curtain the whole time, and she told me not to look. I just heard the pops and the screams. It was over pretty quickly, but we didn’t move for a long time, not until the cops came and told us it was safe. When we got to our feet, I handed her the box I was holding. I think we were both in shock.
“This is for you,” I told her.
“Oh,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
They mounted the plaque right on the front of her desk. It’s the first thing you see when you walk into the main office.
Diane J. Blankenship, it says. Class of 1986. “Front Desk Diane.” Beloved friend to all, and longtime GMHS receptionist. Always a smile and a kind word for everyone. Our lives are brighter for knowing you.
There’s a bronze cast of her face above the words. It doesn’t really look like Diane, but it’s still pretty cool.
Nate Cleary
I got into Davidson, but I took a gap year. I’ve been doing a lot of hiking, mostly by myself, and working part time at REI. I broke up with Kelly over the summer. I got tired of all the whispering.
I’m thinking about majoring in film. I don’t know, though. Maybe I’ll do premed, go into emergency medicine.
I just felt so helpless.
Watching people die like that.
Kyle Dorfman
It left a bitter taste in my mouth. I was just trying to do something good for the town. It wasn’t my fault that it turned into a tragedy, but people still blamed me for it. They didn’t say it out loud, but I could feel it in their eyes.
Marissa was pissed at me too. Among other things, she thought I’d treated Tracy Flick very badly, and then she started dredging up my affair with Veronika, which was ancient history and had nothing to do with Tracy. But for Marissa, it was all part of a larger pattern, which was basically me being an asshole. She said I was always using people and then walking away from the messes I created.
“You never take responsibility,” she said. “And you’re never the one who gets hurt.”
I couldn’t take it after a while. I flew to Maui in May—I thought I’d spend a couple of weeks chilling with Vijay—but I still haven’t gone back. Why would I? It’s beautiful out here, every single day, and there’s something deeply healing about living near the ocean. The boys came out for a visit in July, and then again over the Christmas holidays, and they love it too, especially the surfing. They took a few lessons, and that was all they needed. I’m learning too, though it’s a little harder at my age. But I try to get out every morning, and I’m making some progress, slow but sure.
Vijay and I have been doing mushrooms and talking about a new project. It’s a robot dog based on Barky. A companion for the elderly or the lonely, or just for busy people who don’t have time to care for a pet.
A Dog When You Need One.
That’s our vision.
Alice Weede
I’m glad they’re honoring Jack, but I’m not going back for the ceremony. I’m in Utah right now, and I can’t drive the RV all the way back to New Jersey. We already had a family funeral, and a memorial service for Jack’s friends and colleagues. And besides, I was never really part of his school life. He kept all that to himself.
It’s a little sad being out on the road without him, driving through all this beauty. I tell him about it sometimes.
Oh, Jack, look at those mountains…
For a while I thought I’d never forgive him. First for being unfaithful, and then for leaving me—leaving the world—before we could go on the adventure we’d dreamed about. I’ll admit it, I was a little bitter. I felt like I’d been cheated out of so much happiness in my life.
But I’m not really mad at him anymore. Sometimes I even miss him. It would be nice to have another driver, a warm body next to me at night, a little help with the crosswords. Somebody to look at the stars with. You wouldn’t believe the stars out here.
Oh God, Jack. I never knew there were so many.
Tracy Flick
I was shot twice, once in the shoulder and once in the hip. I’m still in a fair amount of pain. I have to use a cane to get around, and still can’t raise my left arm higher than my ear, but I’m working hard on my PT, and I’m getting stronger by the day. And believe me, I’m not complaining. I know how lucky I am. Luckier than Vito Falcone and Jack Weede, that’s for sure. They were both dead before they got to the hospital.
It was a long, arduous recovery. Three surgeries, a month in rehab, and a summer of bed rest, giving my traumatized body a chance to heal. I couldn’t have gotten through it without Marissa’s help. I stayed in her ground-floor guest room the whole time—the kids call it Tracy’s Room now—and she brought me food and read aloud to me, and at night we watched old movies, or sat out by the pool and listened to music. Sophia joined us for the month of August—she liked the twins and they liked her—and it was almost like we were a family. I’m back in my own house now, but I still spend a lot of time over there on the weekends. Marissa and I cook together, and we go for short walks—I’m trying to get my stamina back—but mainly we just talk and laugh and keep each other company. Life is so much better with a friend.