But no one knew that. All they knew was what Ashley said. She thought I was a hero. And for the first time, no one was pissed at me. No one was disappointed. My grandmother told me how proud she was of me. She’d never said that before. She’d never had a good reason to. People started looking at me like I was worth a damn.
Youlooked at me like I was worth a damn.
I didn’t want to be seen as a hero, but it was nice to not be seen as a lost cause for once.
I know I haven’t really told you much about my parents or why I moved in with my grandmother. But there’s a reason that kid in US History pissed me off so bad. When I was five, my mom overdosed. Heroin, not meth. She died and left me with my dad. You’d think after what happened to my mom, he’d want to stay away from drugs. And he did for about a year. Then we moved to Tennessee for a while and meth happened.
Dad was a dick whether he was sober or not. I got left alone a lot while he went out to get high or drunk or find some other way to spend the money we didn’t have. The therapist I saw after the shooting thinks that’s why I started fighting with other kids. Because I wanted him to pay attention, and getting in trouble was the way to get him to notice or something. I think I was just angry. At him. At Mom for dying. At all the other kids at school for being happier than I was.
Then Dad got arrested. He beat the hell out of some guy at a bar, and when the cops came, Dad had drugs on him. So he got jail time and I got shipped off to live with a grandmother I hadn’t seen in years. And the first time I got in trouble at school, I remember her looking at me and saying, “You look just like your father.” And the way she said it, I knew that wasn’t a good thing. He’d disappointed her, and now I had, too.
It didn’t take long for everyone in Virgil County to know I was bad news. Sometimes just by looking at me. I know you thought so, too.
Don’t be creeped out, but I remember the first time I saw you. I’d been living next door for a couple of weeks, but we’d never really crossed paths, I guess. Anyway, I was walking home. I’d been kicked off the school bus for cussing at the driver. You were sitting on your front porch with Sarah. Your hair was long back then, almost to your waist, and the wind kept blowing it in your face. You were spitting it out of your mouth while Sarah laughed. She reached up and tried to help you tie it back, and that’s when I saw your face.
I don’t think I thought anything that interesting. I don’t remember thinking that you were beautiful. You are, but I don’t think I saw it then. Pretty sure I just thought you were a girl. And you looked like a nice girl. The kind of girl who’d never look my way.
But then you did. You looked at me while I was walking up my driveway. And I stopped to look back at you. I was about to say something. Hi, probably. But then Sarah looked over your shoulder to see what you were staring at. And then she grimaced and whispered something in your ear as she finished tying the ponytail into your hair.
And then you frowned and shook your head and turned away.
I’m not saying I blame you. Either of you. I’m just saying that there was a time when you saw me differently. When you thought I was someone to avoid.
But that’s not how you looked at me after the shooting. The first night I asked to come up on the roof, I thought you’d say no. I thought you’d want to stay away from me. But you didn’t. Because you’d changed your mind about me. Just like everyone in Virgil County. Because you thought I was a hero. And I let you think that, because I like the way you look at me.
God, Lee, I’ve almost told you the truth so many times. Because I feel so guilty all the time. I’m a fraud. I’m the reason a good man is dead, and everyone thinks I’m a hero and I don’t want them to think that, but I also don’t want them to go back to being disappointed in me. I don’t want to be my dad. I’ve tried to do better since the shooting. I’ve stayed out of trouble. I’ve tried to keep my anger in check. Mostly because I can’t stop thinking about Coach Nolan. If I become a dirtbag like my dad, his death will be pointless.
It already is pointless.
But it feels like I owe it to him to do better. So a few weeks after the shooting, I got online and watched a documentary about the American Civil War, and a few days after that, I picked up a biography of Abraham Lincoln, because … I don’t know. Because it was the kind of thing that would have made Coach Nolan proud when he was alive. The kind of thing he never would have expected from me.
Turns out, I really like history. There’s something about putting the puzzle together, figuring out how we got here, who and what led us to this point in time—maybe that sounds stupid. But you know how acting is an escape for you? I think history is that for me. I can get lost in the research for hours on end. Hours where I’m not thinking about the shooting at all.
Maybe if I was interested in other school stuff, college wouldn’t seem like such a fantasy.
Maybe Grandma’s right and I should go to vocational school. That’s probably the most realistic option for me. But sometimes I think about what would happen if I could get into college, if I studied history. Maybe—and yeah, I know this sounds crazy—but maybe I could become a teacher.
Maybe I could do for other kids what Coach Nolan tried to do for me.
I don’t know. All of that seems like such a long shot, and I’m just rambling. I hate writing.
But you keep asking for the truth, Lee, and the truth is that I’m scared you’ll read this and hate me. That knowing I’m not a hero will change how you look at me. Because I’m pretty sure I can deal with the rest of this town hating me. Maybe I even deserve it because of Coach Nolan. But I can’t deal with you hating me. I just can’t.
Last night after prom, I called Ashley. I had her pick me up and we drove around town in her van for a while. She’s the first person I’ve ever told any of this to. I didn’t know what to do about you—about us—and I figured if anyone had a right to know the truth, it was Ashley. She’s spent years thinking I tried to save her life when, really, I was just trying to hide. I thought she’d be pissed at me, but I knew she’d be the best person to ask for advice. She’s always been good with advice.
Well, except when it comes to Kellie, I guess.
“You should tell her,” Ashley said. She’d been surprised but not mad. If anything, she just seemed tired. “Look, I’m not too happy with Lee right now. With this whole letter thing. But … you love her.”
I turned my head to look out the window. We were on our way back to my grandma’s house. “I … uh …”
“That wasn’t a question,” Ashley said. “It’s obvious. It’s been obvious for a while. And if you’re telling me this, it’s because you want to tell her. You’re just scared. You don’t have to write one of her stupid letters if you don’t want to. But tell her. I think you’ll feel better once you do.”
“She’ll hate me.”
“She won’t. She’ll be surprised, but she won’t hate you.” She paused. “Look, you don’t have to tell her if you don’t want to. It’s no one’s business but yours. Maybe a little bit mine. I mean, it’s just one more thing I got wrong.” She sighed and shook her head. “If anything, it’s my fault you’ve felt like you had to lie about this. But I think you’ll feel relieved once she knows.”
“It’s not just about you,” I said. “Coach Nolan …”
