Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse, #Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, #Dating & Sex
loved Conner, and not because he scored
touchdowns or got straight As. We loved
who he was when he let his guard down
.
When he let us see who he wanted to be
,
free of expectations. The real Conner
.
We thought he was stronger than it turned
out he was because he saved us both
,
more than once, and in different
ways. I will never forget him
.
What I want to tell you is what
I think he would tell you, if he could
.
Living means taking chances. Risks
.
Playing safe all the time is being dead
inside, even if you happen to still be
breathing. People expected Conner
to play it safe all the time. And when
he did, he felt dead inside. I saw him
take risks, and then he was the most
alive person I’ve ever known. He would
ask
you
to take chances. Sometimes
that means getting hurt. Getting an F
.
Losing a game. Losing someone you
love. But if you always play it safe
,
you lose anyway
. Tony turns, goes
over to the casket, bends and kisses
Conner.
Fuck you, dude. You should
have hung around. Proved ’em wrong
.
He Turns Back, Crying
Which is fine, because everyone here
is crying. Even Mom. She makes no
sound, but her eyes glisten, and I think
Tony has given her permission to break
all the way down later. He gestures to
Vanessa to come say good-bye. Protocol
might dictate Conner’s family go forward
first. But I think Tony and Vanessa are
Conner’s family. Probably better family
than the rest of us. Dani whispers,
Thanks
for taking a chance with me
. She kisses me,
in front of everybody. And I’m good with it.
Kendra
Chance
Brought us
together.
Tattered us
twisted us
wrenched us
wide apart.
But it wasn’t
chance that
ended you
took you
away from
me forever.
People Move Forward
To say their good-byes. But I’m afraid.
Afraid to see what’s left of Conner.
Afraid I’ll see too much. Too little.
Afraid that what I see will convince me
it’s not Conner at all. From here,
the thing in the coffin looks like it’s made
of wax. A fake Conner, meant to fool
us into believing he’s dead. Maybe he’s not
dead at all. Maybe this is just some
crazy scheme he came up with so he could
get away. From school. From football.
From his family. From me. Maybe he’s living
large with Emily Sanders somewhere.
Oh my God. What’s the matter with me?
Of course he’s dead. Look at his parents.
At Cara. At those two—Tony and Vanessa.
He has leveled them. Shredded them.
I would say he got the final laugh, but
would he laugh, knowing what he’s done
to them? Knowing what he’s done to me?
Kendra,
says Mom.
Don’t you want
to say good-bye?
She stands, takes
my hand, coaxes me to my feet. I let
her lead me forward. My head is light.
I haven’t eaten a bite since I got
the news. Death as a weight-loss tool.
Wonder if I could market that.
The thought makes me laugh. Mom
gives me a sideways glance. But all
it takes to sober me completely is reaching
the casket. I’ve never seen Conner
in a suit. That alone makes him look
a lot like a mannequin. A suit is so not
Conner. I’d rather remember him naked.
Next to me. Under the trees. On a blanket
of pine needles. The memory catches in
my throat. Did he ever think about
that afternoon? Can he think about it now?
“Where are you, Conner?” I whisper.
“Can you hear me? Can you remember,
wherever you are? Will you remember
me, the way I will always remember you?”
I don’t want to say good-bye, but Mom puts
her arm around me.
He’ll remember you.
Sean
Good-bye
Watching
good-byes.
Long ones.
Quick ones.
Sad ones.
Angry ones.
People say
good-bye in
many ways.
How will
people say
good-bye to me?
How will
people
remember me?
I Didn’t Hang Out
With Conner. Didn’t miss him
when he wasn’t at school
after his so-called accident
with the gun. That must
have been on purpose too.
But I have to admit, seeing
him dead, no more chances,
no more choices, no more
ways to make things better,
is making me think. Rethink.
That Tony guy wasn’t totally
right. I mean, yeah, he was
spot-on about other people’s
expectations, and how trying
to live up to them can take
a guy out. But fact is, I
don’t always play it safe.
I take calculated risks,
always with a focused goal
in sight. But sometimes
I feel dead inside anyway.
Cara made me feel alive.
Maybe that’s why I can’t
let her go. I don’t want
to feel dead anymore.
What I think is, I need to
find a way to feel alive
that doesn’t require
someone else to make
it happen. I mean, putting
a ball over the fence, and
hearing people cheer for
me, well, that’s a solo
effort, and a definite rush.
Dead people don’t get rushes.
Getting into Stanford,
mostly on my own
willpower, that came
close. It’s the “mostly”
that bothers me. Am I really
good enough to play Cardinal
ball? I think the time has
come to find out. To dry