I, Amy Cavanaugh, have not spoken in two months, twenty-seven days, eight hours, and eleven minutes.
I have seen winter become spring become summer. I have seen my family fall apart. I have seen a community baffled by the actions of two teenagers.
We didn’t kill anyone. We started no movements. We didn’t fall prey to the terrifying clutches of reality television.
We just decided to be quiet.
I am about to walk out onto a stage. There will be cameras and news crews. There will be students and parents. There will be strangers and friends. There will be the tattered remains of my broken future.
And there will be Connor Sanderson.
He, Connor Sanderson, who I’ve known for two months, twenty-seven days, eight hours, and eleven minutes.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes for a brief moment of darkness. It feels like the entire world is waiting just around the edge of the stage curtain. But in fact, it’s only my entire world. That seems like enough.
I step forward into the blinding white lights.