I’m sure of it. I’d bet my life on it. —January Morrison, police interview Things are crazy at school. It feels like the aftermath following the shooting. Only worse. At least after the shooting, we were out of classes for a whole week—enough time for everyone to realize that thinking about it doesn’t make it go away. Not thinking about it does that. So everyone talked about the next lake party and who won the baseball tournament and whether or not someone was hooking up with someone else’s boyfriend. And little by little, it faded, disappearing like the bullet holes in the walls. A little plaster of Paris in our minds and everything was peachy. But today, after January’s attack, the general feeling is almost gleeful. It’s far less terrifying than after the shooting. This time, there’s pity for January, but it’s tempered with smugness—a sure feeling that this would never happen to someone who didn’t deserve it. Dizzy even said that out loud.
