BooksBarbecue
Back The Lucky Ones
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-one
  25. Chapter Twenty-two
  26. Chapter Twenty-three
  27. Chapter Twenty-four
  28. Chapter Twenty-five
  29. Chapter Twenty-six
  30. Chapter Twenty-seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-one
  35. Chapter Thirty-two
  36. Chapter Thirty-three
  37. Chapter Thirty-four
  38. Chapter Thirty-five
  39. Chapter Thirty-six
  40. Chapter Thirty-seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-one
  45. Chapter Forty-two
  46. The Letter
  47. Chapter Forty-three
  48. Chapter Forty-four
  49. Chapter Forty-five
  50. Chapter Forty-six
  51. Chapter Forty-seven
  52. Chapter Forty-eight
  53. Chapter Forty-nine
  54. Chapter Fifty
  55. Chapter Fifty-one
  56. Chapter Fifty-two
  57. Chapter Fifty-three
  58. Author’s Note
  59. Resources
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. What’s next onyour reading list?

Chapter Forty-three

Chapter Forty-Three

Hours later, I’m still curled into a ball on my bed with the comforter wrapped tight around me. It’s not helping to keep out the cold. The house is dark and silent like it always is.

I’m alone.

All the letters have been pulled out of their various hiding places, envelopes ripped open, pages read, and now I’m trapped on my bed, surrounded by a mountain of notebook paper with words scrawled onto them that I’ll never be able to scrub from my brain. I wish I could dig into my head and get them out, pour bleach in there to remove the stain.

I am going to be haunted by his words for the rest of my life.

I used to avoid David Ecchles at all costs. We all did. He had gotten in trouble sophomore year for a poem he wrote in English about Columbine—it ended up getting him suspended from school. Everyone knew he was strange—scary, even. Then, at the beginning of junior year, my AP History teacher, Mr. Taylor, asked me to tutor him. I didn’t have much of a choice—there was no real reason why I couldn’t. And it wasn’t terrible; I was surprised by how he knew a ton about the battles of World War II, about what weapons were used when and where. He was awful at writing papers, though.

After about a month of tutoring, he asked me out twice, and of course I said no because I was dating Miles, and because David was David, and after that he got weird. Really weird. I started seeing him around school in places he shouldn’t have been. I finally told Mr. Taylor I couldn’t help him anymore—I made up a lie about being too busy with band stuff—and after that the only place I remember seeing him was in class.

Until, at least according to that asshole Miles, that night at Adam’s party.

—

That weekend before the shooting was like any other back then. Lucy and I got into an argument about whether I should go to Adam’s party. I told her to stop being such a fucking judgmental old lady, that she wasn’t any fun.

Later that night, when I was about to leave the house to meet Miles, my mom stopped me in the kitchen, a frown on her face. Why isn’t Jordan going with you? You two never hang out anymore. You used to be so close. What’s going on with you guys?

And suddenly, I needed a drink more than anything. Suddenly, all I wanted was five hundred drinks, enough to drown out her voice, enough to drown myself in.