“Oh, and obviously you guys are invited, too,” Amber said, looking over at Miles and me. “If you’re going to prom, I mean. Are you?”
Miles peered at me over the top of his book, a bushy eyebrow raised. “Are we?” he asked.
“I … uh …”
I was still trying to formulate the words for some sort of answer when I felt something hit me in the back of the head. It didn’t hurt. Just a light tap. I reached up and touched my hair, but I felt nothing there. When I turned around, I noticed a group of juniors at another table. They had their heads together, conversing in low voices, and occasionally one would look up and glare at me.
Ashley’s younger sister, Tara Chambers, was one of them.
I shook it off and turned back to Miles. “About prom. I still don’t—”
It happened again. Another small, but annoying, tap on the back of my head. This time, when I turned around, I noticed one of the juniors, a boy with red hair and glasses, was holding a tiny object in his hand, his arm pulled back like he was about to pitch a baseball in my direction. He dropped his arm when he saw me looking, and I noticed the small tray of Tater Tots on the table in front of him.
“Is that kid … throwing Tater Tots at me?” I asked Miles, feeling kind of baffled.
It’s not that bullying isn’t a problem at VCHS. It definitely is. Most people even seem to think that was the motive behind the massacre, though I always hate that narrative. In part because, even if the shooter was bullied, it certainly wasn’t by me or Sarah or several of the other victims. And I’d argue that the minute he opened fire, he became the ultimate school bully, so hearing people assume that he was tormented as some sort of excuse for what he did just infuriates me.
My point is that VCHS has the same sort of bullying issues any other high school does, but Tater Tot throwing still seemed so bizarrely juvenile.
Miles slammed his book shut and turned to look at the table behind me. “What the hell?” he asked, raising his voice a bit above his usual mumble so they could hear him.
“Hell is exactly where she’s going,” the redheaded kid said, tossing another Tater Tot at me. This one bounced off my shoulder. Next to him, I saw Tara nod.
There was a flicker of a shadow in Miles’s eyes, and he started to stand up. I grabbed his arm and held it tight. “Leave it,” I whispered, my words almost pleading. “It’s not worth your getting in trouble.”
VCHS had a zero-tolerance policy for violence since the shooting. And as much as part of me wanted to see Miles punch Tater Tot kid in the face, a much larger part of me couldn’t stand the idea of my friend being expelled so close to graduation.
Miles stayed tense, like a cat ready to pounce, but he didn’t leave his seat. Instead, he just glared at the kid behind me. Which, I guess, was enough to scare the redhead off from throwing any more food in my direction.
“What’s their problem?” Denny asked.
“They go to my church,” Amber said, her voice low as she gestured to Tara and the redheaded boy. “And, um … our preacher may have mentioned Lee this past Sunday.”
“Virgil County Baptist?” I guessed.
She nodded. “Yeah. He … he said you’ve been telling stories about Sarah McHale. Said something about how it’s the devil working through you, and how we need to remember Sarah’s devotion to her faith.”
“Did he instruct you all to throw food at me?” I asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “He did say we should pray for you, though.”
“How nice of him,” Miles muttered.
“You don’t sound like you believed him,” Denny noted.
“Well.” Amber tugged on a lock of her shiny hair and turned big hazel eyes on me. “Honestly? I always believed the Sarah story. I didn’t really know Sarah, but … she was so nice. And always at church. And it seemed more likely than what that Kellie girl said. But you were Sarah’s best friend and you were there with her when it happened. And, I don’t know, you just don’t seem like a liar to me.”
“Thank you,” I said, surprised by just how much I appreciated Amber in that moment. “But I’m guessing you’re in the minority if Brother Lloyd is telling everyone his side of things.”
Amber shrugged. “I think my parents are in the same place as me, if it helps. I’m not sure they ever actually believed the Sarah story to begin with. But even if most people do think you’re lying, I’d like to think the rest of my congregation is mature enough not to throw things.”
I would’ve liked to believe that, too. But I remembered what the Gaynor family had gone through. The vandalism, the threats, the way grown adults attacked a teenage girl still recovering from a gunshot wound. If people were half as mad at me as they were at Kellie Gaynor three years ago, then Tater Tots were the least of my worries.
I didn’t want anyone to think I could be shaken, but honestly, I was scared.
I found out my best friend was a martyr from a bulletin board at the drugstore.
It was in April, almost a month after the shooting. Mom and I were on our way home from my therapy appointment, and we’d stopped by the pharmacy to pick up my medication. I stayed near the front of the store while Mom went back to pick up my prescription. It was one of those days where I needed space from her. Where every word she said, every move she made, irritated me.
