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Back The Lucky Ones Save as PDF
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?

Hence, their decision to transfer half of the leftover kids from Carter here at the beginning of the new school year and half to Miller, the next closest high school in the Valley. This is where I ended up when my parents and Dr. McMillen decided homeschooling wasn’t working out. Wasn’t working out…so sue me if I couldn’t take that whimpering homeschool teacher seriously as she sat in front of me, clutching my textbooks in her aging hands, barely able to hold them up. Couldn’t take her seriously as we both sat there ignoring the ever-present ghost of my brother, which draped itself over everything in the house, over furniture like ill-fitting slipcovers, over conversations like a heavy fog, over every fucking interaction like an anchor pulling us down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean.

Last fall, the Executive Decision (vom) was made that it would be better for my mental health (again, vom) if I was around people. Not homeschooled, since my parents couldn’t (read: wouldn’t) be there with me to make sure I was, you know, actually doing stuff and not just ignoring the teacher they’d brought in, who had failed at her “job” pretty miserably.

Principal Rose-Brady somehow convinced the school board to let me back in, even though I’m pretty sure she had to field several angry phone calls after that decision from parents of kids who I may or may not have punched in the face at some point in the past. Honestly, though, how could those parents fight my reenrollment? The fact is: I’m a SURVIVOR.

I’m the leftover.

The lucky one.

The only one in that room who lived.

And now I’m back in school.

It sucks.

—

I don’t know where to park, so I spend far too long trying to maneuver through the stupid maze of a lot, one hand on the wheel and the other clutching the hand-drawn map Lucy gave me last night to try to alleviate my anxiety.

I’m so exhausted that the lines of her drawing keep twisting together like ropes, crossing in imaginary places. I didn’t get home until almost two a.m.; I stayed on that driveway for almost an hour, lying there with that stupid cat, just breathing. Feeling like the sky was pressing down on my head, like the stars were going to pop like old lightbulbs any second, leaving the world black.