Landon
SUNDAY, I slept in since my set call wasn’t until three. CNN had put me up at a funky little hotel three blocks from the studio. I got showered and changed, nervous about going on camera. I made sure there weren’t any visible nose hairs or zits. Then I went out to look around the city a little since I’d never been there. It was awesome to see Times Square, but I wished Brian were there with me to see it. I walked and gawked and thought about him.
I’d lost my temper with Brian—it had been our first real fight—and I felt bad about it. I knew he was scared for me. And I hadn’t even told him about the death threats I’d gotten in PM. Mostly they weren’t concrete threats but vague hostility like I hope someone shoots YOU, you little twerp cuck. Yeah. They all seemed like nice people.
I was torn. I didn’t want to upset Brian. I’d never been closer to another human being. I wanted him by my side 24-7. I loved him so much.
But I couldn’t give in to Brian’s fears. This was my chance to make a difference, fight for something I believed in. And it wasn’t just about me. Maybe I could save lives, help prevent this from happening at another school. What if I was part of a solution that stopped a shooting from happening in, say, a middle school in Illinois? Or New Hampshire? How could I step away from that?
And anyway, it wasn’t a healthy relationship if I did only what Brian wanted me to do.
I thought about what my mom had told me on the drive to the airport.
“Brian has a gentle soul, honey, like your father. You’re strong, like me. We need someone to soften us a little. I think Brian’s good for you. But the flip side of that is you need to take care not to run over his feelings. I know you’re passionate about this, but, honey, don’t let it come between you. I think you’ll regret it if you do.”
Ugh. Moms. I hated taking advice from parents, because they were sort of out of it. Even my parents, who were totally cool compared to most parents. But she had a point. I didn’t want to ignore Brian’s concerns or just plow over them.
Anyway, with the attention span of the media, they’d probably stop asking me for interviews in a few months. Right?
No. Probably not. The truth was, this cause wasn’t going away anytime soon. A few of the kids from Parkland were getting internships in DC. That would be a dream come true, to work for the ACLU or a senator or something. And that kind of experience would totally be worth taking a gap year. I thought my parents would support the gap-year idea if I was passionate about it and had a good, concrete opportunity.
But that wouldn’t exactly take me off the alt-right target list. How could I work things out with Brian if this cause not only went on but grew?
Fuck. It was too complicated. Love was complicated.
My phone dinged. I hurriedly dug it out of my coat pocket.
Brian: Sorry about the fight. I know this is important to you. Have a good trip and kick ass.
My heart melted. My boy!
Maybe we’d be all right.