It didn’t take long for Mom to find out about the harassment I was getting from Brother Lloyd and his congregation.

She started getting suspicious when my truck was keyed in the school parking lot. I’d lied and told her that my driver-side door wasn’t the only victim, and that some asshole must have been vandalizing classmates’ cars for the fun of it. It was obvious she didn’t completely buy it. I may be an actress—or an aspiring actress, more accurately—but like I’ve said, I’m not the best at improv. Still, she let it slide.

But then someone egged our house in the middle of the night.

I woke up on a Saturday and found Mom on the porch, scrubbing away at our front window. Until that moment, I didn’t even know egging houses was still something people did. But I guess things become classic for a reason.

“I just don’t know why anyone would do this,” Mom said as I stepped out onto the porch. “I’ve heard of kids doing this kind of thing on Halloween, but it’s the middle of April.”

“Can I help?” I asked, the guilt twisting in my stomach like an agitated snake.

“No. Thank you, though, Lee baby. I think I’ve got it.” She shook her head and pushed dark brown bangs off of her face. “But … do you have any ideas? Why anyone might target our house? I took a look around and it doesn’t look like any of the neighbors got hit.”

She looked at me. It was the look mothers give when they know something, but they want you to be the one to say it. Denial wasn’t an option this time. And even if it had been, I’m not sure I would’ve taken it. I had a sudden flash of Kellie Gaynor and all the ways people had found to torment her and her parents. Someone had broken Mrs. Gaynor’s windshield. And a week later the word liar was spray-painted in red on their front door. And that’s not even taking into account the harassment they faced in person.

If people were mad at me for speaking up, they wouldn’t hesitate to take it out on our property. Or on my mom. Which was something, I realized then, that I probably should have considered sooner.

“Mom,” I said. “Can we talk?”

She lowered the rag she was using to clean the window. “What’s going on, baby?”

“Maybe we should talk inside.”

A minute later, we were seated across from each other at the kitchen table. I folded my hands together and focused on my ragged, bitten fingernails as I explained to Mom what had really happened in the bathroom three years ago. I tried to skip all of the more painful details, knowing there was a good chance she’d end up crying as I went through the events, and I wasn’t prepared to deal with that this morning.

It had taken a while, but my relationship with Mom had improved since those first few months after the massacre. There were still rough patches, when I was overcome with irrational anger about what had happened, and she felt like the only safe target, the only one I knew wouldn’t leave me, no matter how I treated her. Or when her attention felt like suffocation. But over the last three years, thanks to a combo of therapy and time, we’d slowly learned to work through those moments, learned what buttons not to push and when to step away.

Still, I’m not sure I’ll ever stop feeling shame for how I treated her back then.

“So then I heard about Sarah’s parents writing a book,” I said. “And I … I couldn’t let the story get bigger. I couldn’t let it blow up again when it’s not true. It’s just going to make things worse for Kellie Gaynor. And Sarah would hate this, too, and I … I didn’t think about how this was going to affect you. I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Lee baby.” She reached across the table, pulling my hands apart so she could take them in both of hers. When I looked up, I was surprised to see that she wasn’t crying. Her eyes were gentle, sad even, but dry. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“But it’s going to get worse,” I told her. “You remember what happened to the Gaynors. They practically got chased out of town with pitchforks.”

“And that might happen to us, too,” she said. “But I’m not going to be the one to tell you to keep quiet. I’m going to support you, no matter what you decide to do.” Her eyes went dark and her mouth twisted into a grimace. “And I’ll wring the necks of anyone who threatens you about it. Have you been okay? I’m guessing that’s why your truck got keyed. Has anything else happened? Do I need to talk to the police?”

I shook my head. “No. Just the truck and the egg … and a few Tater Tots to the back of the head. Besides, do you really think the cops in this town are going to do anything? Half of them go to church with Sarah’s parents.”

Mom sighed, but she didn’t argue. Detective Jenner had been right. People in this town, including the local authorities, loved the Sarah story. And they weren’t going to protect me if I was the one trying to take it away from them. They hadn’t protected Kellie’s family, either.

“Maybe I should talk to Chad and Ruth myself,” Mom said. “They’ve always been such nice, reasonable people.”

“I wouldn’t,” I told her. “They were pretty upset when I tried to tell them the truth. I don’t think they’d encourage people to do this …” I gestured toward the living room and the front window. “They aren’t like that. But I think we should probably leave them out of it.”

Mom squeezed my hands. “Then is there anything I can do? Anything to help make this easier?”

“Besides inventing a time machine so I can go back and never let this rumor get so big? I don’t think so.”

“If I had a time machine, I’d stop the shooting from happening altogether,” she said, and the tears I’d been expecting (and dreading) finally appeared in the corners of her eyes.

I removed my hands from hers and stood up, heading over to the cabinet where we kept the bowls. “I’m just going to have to deal with it,” I said. “I’ve already got a few of the letters. I don’t know what I’ll do with them, but once I have them all … I’ll come up with something.” I grabbed a box of Froot Loops and began to pour myself a bowl. “It’ll be something I can put out there. Something to show people that Kellie wasn’t lying.”

Mom waited until I’d poured the milk into my bowl and joined her at the table again before asking, “How does Kellie feel about you doing this?”

“I haven’t gotten ahold of her yet,” I said. “I’ve been emailing and texting.”

“So you don’t know if she actually wants this?”

I frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t she?” I asked. “She tried to tell everyone the truth three years ago. I should’ve helped her then, but I didn’t, so I am now. I’m sure she’ll be glad.”

“A lot can change in three years, though.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Mom opened her mouth, then shut it and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “Like I said, I’ll support you no matter how you decide to handle this. But you should make sure Kellie is okay with it. If you try to make these letters you’re collecting public, that’s going to bring a lot of attention on her again. She might not be prepared for that.”

“The McHales’ book will do the same thing,” I said. “She’s going to get attention no matter what. I’m sure she wants to set the record straight more than any of us.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Mom said. She stood up and wiped the stray tears from her eyes. “I’d better go get ready for work. I’m taking over Nancy’s shift at the store for today. You going to be okay here alone? With everything that’s happening?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Mom. No one’s going to show up with the pitchforks yet. Give it a week or two.”

She swatted at my shoulder. “Don’t be a smart mouth. And don’t forget to take your medication.”

“I won’t,” I said. She was halfway down the hallway to her bedroom when I called after her again. “Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

There were so many answers I could have given. So many things that I’d never thanked her for. That she’d never ask me to thank her for.

For not talking me out of telling the truth, even if it meant life was going to get harder for her. For putting up with me for the past three years, even when I took all of my anger and frustration out on her. For being my biggest ally and champion and protector, even when I didn’t want her to be there at all.

“For everything.”