Brian
“MY NAME is Brian Marshall, and I was in the cafeteria at The Wall on September 28th. A bullet went through a water fountain and the corner of a wall to strike me in the back. I would have died if it weren’t for Landon putting pressure on my wound and talking to me. I lost my best friend, Jake, that day. He was shot in the back while he was running away. And I saw a lot of kids die right in front of me.”
My words were rough, but not as shaky as I would have expected. There were murmurs of regret and sympathy around the circle. Madison, sitting to my right, hugged me, and then, surprisingly, Josiah, on my left, did too. Landon was on the other side of the circle, co-chairing the group, but his gaze burned into mine.
There were sixteen of us teens in the conference room—seven students from The Wall, six from Parkland, and three from a high school in Chattanooga who asked if they could sit in. A dozen parents hung out in the back of the room, including Landon’s mom.
“I’m Madison O’Reilly,” Madison said. “I was in the auditorium when the active shooter announcement came over the PA. Our Drama class got out through an exit backstage, and we were okay. But I was terrified for my friends. I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe in a public building again. Or anywhere, really.”
She put her hand in mine. I squeezed it.
The girl to Madison’s right went next.
It was the first time I’d talked about what happened in front of a group. It was hard to say the words, but there was a power in admitting it, like it didn’t mean I was weak or broken. It didn’t mean I’d done something wrong.
Story after story poured out. Face after face was washed with pain.
“I was shot through a window and—”
“I held my girlfriend while she—”
“I hid in a cabinet and saw the gunman’s shoes. I thought—”
I really thought I was going to die.
My heart grew full and hot, as if a burning rock had replaced the beating muscle in my chest. At some point I realized I was holding Josiah’s hand too, he and Maddy on either side. For the first time, it felt like maybe they were my friends and not just Landon’s.
So many of these kids had had the worst thing possible happen to them. I could look at them and know, without any question, that they had been victims, pure and simple. No matter what they had done to survive, they were blameless. Maybe there was no rhyme or reason to why they were sitting there when others had died—
Why I was sitting there when Jake had died.
—but I was so glad they’d survived. And maybe feeling compassion for them, I could feel some for myself? Landon had told me basically that same thing a half-dozen times. But it was easier to believe it for someone else.
Seeing others still struggling made me feel less weak.
After everyone had spoken, Landon stood up. There was a big flip-chart notebook on an easel at the head of the circle, and he turned to a page with a bulleted list.
“Again, I’m Landon from The Wall, and we’re just really stoked you guys from Parkland could meet with us this weekend. And the students from Chattanooga School for the Arts and Sciences too. I’ve been talking to some of you on Twitter, and there’s so much we can learn from your experiences. And I feel like if we band together, we can all have a bigger impact. So in the interest of trying to get through a whole lot of material in one day, we came up with this agenda.”
Madison let go of my hand to get out a notebook and take notes. Josiah let go too, looking at me with a troubled sigh before folding his legs up in his chair and settling back to listen.
I was surprised Landon had everything so organized, because he hadn’t talked about it with me. But then again, I wasn’t surprised at all. He’d been focused on this for weeks.
The Parkland students outlined the work they’d been doing, the town halls, bus tour, marches, and voter registration drives. They talked about their encounters with Second Amendment peeps, and how they usually found they weren’t so far apart if they could speak face-to-face about commonsense gun laws.
That made me think about my dad and Bull, about how much they hated these kids. It was so unbelievable and so unfair. Everyone in this room was impressive as fuck. I wondered what would happen if my dad were here. Would he be able to just listen? To let himself feel their sincerity and their heart?
Probably not. And that made me feel incredibly sad.
At lunch there was pizza, and we took a break to eat. I wandered over to where Landon was talking to a dark-haired guy. Landon smiled at me and introduced us. The guy been shot multiple times, and he’d had three surgeries so far. I shook his hand, which was cool and soft. For some reason, tears came to my eyes when I did that. I wanted to tell him I thought he was brave, but I didn’t trust my voice.
“How are you holding up?” Landon asked after the guy wandered off.
“I’m okay. You?”
His eyes were glowing with purpose. “I’m great. This is going well, don’t you think? I mean, it’s hard. But it’s amazing to meet these guys in person. To have a chance to coordinate.”
“Yeah. I’m really glad I came.”
He blinked and looked at me more closely, his smile fading. “You sure you’re okay? You sound a little….”
“I’m good,” I said. “It’s just a lot.”
“I know.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “If you need to step out—”
“No. Hell, no. I wouldn’t miss it.” I tried to think of a way to explain. “It’s like… pulling out a splinter. Or making a cut and letting some of the poison drip out. It hurts, but it’s good. You know?”
He gave me a fond, puzzled smile. “Such a poet.”
“Shut up. Splinters are not poetic.”
A blonde girl from the Chattanooga group came up to us, her eyes red and puffy. “Sorry to interrupt. Brian, I wanted to say that you remind me so much of my brother. He played football and graduated last year, and I could totally see him going through what you went through. I’m so sorry for what happened.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Can I give you guys a hug?” she asked, wiping her cheeks.
Landon hugged her, a long, warm hug of the type only he could give. Then I hugged her. She started crying again.
“I wish more people from my school had come,” she said, swallowing her tears. “But we’ll take this back with us and make them understand. I swear, we will.”
Landon gave her a sad smile. “Thanks. I’m so glad you guys came today.”
Landon’s mom came up to us with two plates. “I grabbed you boys some pizza before it all vanished.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Landon took a plate loaded with two slices of pepperoni.
She held out a plate to me with a single slice of cheese. “Can you have cheese pizza, honey? I wasn’t sure.”
“Nah, I’ve got crackers and stuff.”
“You sure?” She looked worried. “What else can I get you? There’s a restaurant in the hotel. I could get you some soup or maybe mac and cheese?”
She was so nice. “I don’t think I could eat right now. But thank you.”
My gut felt like a tangle of knots at the moment. No way could I deal with food.
She left, and Landon watched me while he chewed a big bite of pizza. He swallowed. “Want a little taste?” He held the slice out to me.
I looked at his lips. I did want a taste, but not of the pizza. When I looked back up at his eyes, his cheeks had gone pink.
“Maybe later,” I said, my voice husky.
Landon cleared his throat and looked away.
That afternoon was more of a strategy session. Everyone brainstormed things we could do to promote better gun-control laws, get through to politicians, and drive teens to vote.
I zoned out because there was so much going on inside my head. As I looked around, a feeling grew inside me that was almost too big to contain. I guess it was one of those epiphany moments.
The thing was, I loved these people.
I’d always admired the fuck out of Landon. I’d thought he was so mature and serious and kind. But now I saw he wasn’t the only one. It seemed like everyone in the room was like that. Not that they weren’t ordinary teenagers who probably had their own hang-ups and issues, bitched at their moms, and partied too much. But they were smart and aware and dedicated to something greater.
And I wanted that. I wanted to live for something beyond myself. Do something with my life. I felt like… like these were my people. This was where I belonged. Where I wanted to be. Who I wanted to be.
I watched Landon writing a bullet point on the huge notepad, his tongue poking out in concentration, his brow furrowed studiously. My heart thumped like a dog’s tail in my chest at the sight of him, at the memory of how unbelievably right it had felt when he’d kissed me.
This was the person I wanted to be with.
Yeah. Yeah. Absolutely.
A wave of gratitude swamped me. Because not everyone finds those things, figures themselves out. I know because I’d been half-living for a long time. And I promised myself, right there, right then, that I was gonna become that guy. And nothing was going to stop me.