I finally find my space and turn the car into it with enough force that for a second I’m afraid the brakes will fail and I’ll go slamming into the car across the way. I’m used to Jordan sitting next to me, reminding me to slow down. Even toward the end, when we weren’t talking much, when our silences could swallow entire car rides, his hand on my arm could calm me. Now there’s an empty seat next to me: a reminder that I’m alone.

Once I’m parked, I head across the sidewalk to the main building.

When I reach the front door, I remember what I forgot.

The sight of the metal detectors slams me in the stomach. They look like something out of a sci-fi movie, something that I should see in a place that is dangerous and frightening, not in a school building, but of course now they are one and the same, the frightening places and the daily places, and my mouth tugs downward and my stomach plummets through the asphalt into the center of the earth.

Then, because I have no other option, no other choice, I push through the doors and put my school bag on the conveyor belt and walk through the detector. Out of the corner of my eye I see a uniformed guard patting down another late arrival, gracelessly poking at his pockets and around his ankles.

On the other side, I come face to face with a giant placard displaying the names and faces of the other people who were in the band room that day—my favorite teacher, my friends, my fucking brother. Why they insisted on putting up this disgusting memorial at all the high schools in our area is beyond me. The shooting didn’t happen here. It’s like they’re just trying too hard—trying to act like they care—trying to act like they understand.

Like they could ever understand.

Thank god Lucy warned me or I’d probably puke all over it.

Before I can explode into a thousand tiny molecules of fury, my friend Chimera is on me like white on rice. She clamps her slender fingers around my arm, and I almost jump out of my skin.