Chapter 56 Avery
Avery
After a while, they pull Caulder into the ambulance to confirm he’s okay, leaving me alone in the van.
I don’t have my laptop here, but Ms. Dorman left a bag of freebies she got from the debate competition in the front seat.
I dig out a blank notebook with a cover that says Raise Your Voice, Change the World in a swirly font above a cutesy graphic of a globe, and a matching pen with a rubber Earth on the end that bounces on a spring when you write.
Yeah. After the night I’ve had, that seems appropriate. Though, next to my hand, covered in scratches, dirt, and blood, it looks almost…too clean.
I open the notebook to write with it anyway.
After all, Emerson was right about one thing.
Of all the essays I could’ve written for college, this one’s probably going to be the one that stands out the most. Still, when I go to put the pen to paper, I find that my hand’s shaking.
Maybe the story’s too raw. Or maybe it’s because I don’t know how it really ends yet.
Out the window, I watch Ms. Dorman with the police. She’s telling her story, I’m sure. Soon, I’ll have to tell mine. So will Caulder. At some point, someone will ask each of us what happened.
I still don’t know what I’m going to say.
Yes, we have the general story we agreed on. I’ll keep to that. But beyond the basics we hastily patched together, we’ll never fully agree on the truth. Not really. We learn that in debate. There are the facts, the figures, the nonnegotiable realities.
Ten of us came here tonight.
Two of us will never leave.
But beyond those, there are the stories. Each perspective giving way to individual reality.
None of our stories will be the same.
Because, when you really think about it, the truth is so much more flexible than you want it to be.