She took a deep breath and slipped her hand from beneath theirs. “I’ve got to go.”
“What?” Kincaid’s brows lifted. “Where?”
Liv pushed her chair back. “There’s something left in my letter that I haven’t done.”
chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
Liv stared between the familiar buildings, her heartbeat a rapid staccato against her ribs. She swallowed past the tension in her throat and gripped the crinkled paper in her hand. No one would be here today. If she panicked, at least she could do it in private.
She let her gaze fall to the sidewalk. This part of the school had never been redone. When the concrete had been laid, the original class of 1982 had pressed shoe prints into it, initials carved beside each one. A small plaque had been embedded at the start of the walk. THE FIRST STEPS TO YOUR FUTURE START HERE.
The message was supposed to be hopeful, but Liv knew it offered no guarantee. Many people’s futures had started here. Many had ended.
It was a tradition as a freshman at Long Acre to see which shoe print fit yours best and then to try to guess via the initials which student of the original class was your match. Were you destined to be the next football s
tar if you matched 1982’s Michael John’s giant print? Were you going to be the class president if you matched Claire Connell’s? Liv took a few steps and found her match. V. M.—she’d known for sure who her match was without checking the graduation pic on the wall. Valerie Moreno. Her mamá. Liv lined her foot up with the print.
Back then, she wouldn’t have said she wanted to end up like her mother. A woman who’d gotten married young and who’d never left her small town. But after seeing what her mother had gone through, seeing her fight, how she kept her spirits and hope throughout, Liv knew she’d be lucky to have half the inner toughness her mother had. She squatted down and ran her fingers over the initials. Would her mom be proud of who Liv had become?
Liv thought she’d been doing right by her mom with her former job. Being practical. Staying out of trouble. But now she’d realized she’d been living in a protective shell the whole time. Her mom had probably been shaking her head. She could almost hear her voice in her ears. Life is short and precious, Oli. Do something with yours.
Liv stood, her eyes misty, and let her gaze travel down the rest of the walkway. The sunlight was streaming through the buildings, angling across the place she most feared. With a deep breath, she forced her legs forward, her sandals quiet as she crossed over the rest of the footprints.
The first steps to your future start here.
The sound of the small fountain that sat in the corner of the memorial courtyard hit her first. Her fingers tightened around the paper in her left hand. She straightened her spine, determined not to let the panic in, and took the last few steps. On the way to the documentary interview, she’d had to avoid this place. She would not look away this time.
The space was more beautiful than she’d expected. A garden of wildflowers lined the path, and there were benches of natural stone. The back wall had the names of the victims etched into it in a neat, square font. But what caught her eye was the wall adjacent to it. The entire wall was smooth concrete covered in blackboard paint. In the center, metal words had been embedded: LOVE NEVER ENDS. But it wasn’t those words that had her drawing closer and holding her breath. Instead, it was what surrounded them.
Endless messages written in chalk on every inch of the board. And as she got closer, she realized they were not messages to those who had died, which had probably been the original intent, but messages to current students from other students. Compliments, encouragement, congratulations, thank-you’s. Nice things about their classmates.
Jess Sands has the prettiest eyes.
No one rocks a spelling bee like Keisha Biggs.
Clay Rogers wears awesome T-shirts.
Love.
Messages of love in a high school environment where tearing each other down was the norm. In every way, it was a big, fat middle finger to the shooters who had walked these halls with guns and hate. They’d had a mission to go after the happy ones. Well, the happy ones were thriving here. Liv pressed her hand against the wall, her eyes watery but a swelling sense of pride inside her. This was her school, her town, her home. Not all had been lost that night.
Not all had been lost within her.
Her eyes went back to the message at the center. LOVE NEVER ENDS.
Vaguely, she remembered it was part of a Bible quote, but as she traced her fingers over the metal lettering, the truth of it settled into her.
She’d never stopped loving this place, her friends, or her mother just because they were gone from her life. And she’d never stop loving Finn.
Not back then. And not now.
Love just was.
She let her arm fall to her side and made her way farther down the path until she reached the wall of names. Panic tried to climb up her throat, but she swallowed past it. She was stronger than that instinct. She lowered herself onto the bench in front of the wall, and her eyes traveled over each name.
With each one, she tried to picture the person. Some were just glimpses, snapshots from passing people in the hallway or yearbook photos. Some she remembered clearly. Brenna Carlson who sat next to her in English and always read aloud under her breath instead of silently. Zoe Redmond who used to swap music magazines with Liv and introduced her to some of her favorite bands. Curtis Beacher who had asked Liv on her very first date, which had turned out to be playing video games followed by an awkward kiss that tasted like Twizzlers.