Reviving Evan (A Dismantling Evan Companion Novella) Read online

  Reviving

  Evan

  Book 1.5

  an Evan series novella

  Venessa Kimball

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Rue Volley

  Wrap design by Zillah Design

  Formatted by Zillah Design

  Reviving Evan Edited by

  Red Road Editing’s Kristina Circelli

  Saving Gavin & Resurrecting Gavin

  Edited by Carmilla Voiez

  Text Copyright © 2015 Venessa Kimball

  All rights reserved.

  From

  Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing, LLC

  ~

  December

  Everyone in our community was disarmed and crippled by what has happened. In the wise words of Dr. Larson, fight or flight is a basic instinct in human nature that takes hold during traumatic events. Based on our state of mind, we will choose either tofight against the trauma or to flee the trauma, hide and stay frozen in time, a hardened shell around us keeping us from harm. None of us really knew the extent of Gavin’s intention until the police department questioned him. His plan was to take his life back, be the owner of his demise, and kill himself in front of everyone. Once that was discovered, the police stopped questioning him and put him on suicide watch pending a transfer to a psychiatric hospital. First Austin State Hospital, then it changed to Pembroke Psychiatric Center.

  Potential homicide turned attempted suicide: that is where Gavin’s strangely brilliant yet noticeably broken mind went when the cards of life stacked high against him. What the general public is now being fed play by play is part truth - mostly for ratings. Gavin bringing a gun to school with the plan to massacre all of those who have slighted him sounds a hell of a lot more intriguing than the truth. The truth is Gavin Ferguson brought a gun to school to end all the torment he has been hammered with for years by classmates.

  Brody was the one who saved him from shooting himself or anyone else in the auditorium that day. I remember seeing him tackle Gavin, forcing the gun away from his head before the gun went off and everything went black and I started feeling dizzy. I was so scared that he or Brody were shot in the struggle. Even though I heard the screaming around me, the struggling and yelling that was distinctly Gavin’s, I couldn’t hear Brody’s voice and I couldn’t bring myself back to see if he was all right. I tried to call out to Brody, but it didn’t leave my head. When I heard Nikki plead with the police to let Brody go, I knew he was okay.

  I came to in the ambulance, just before they took me to the hospital. They had an oxygen mask over my face and I remember pulling it off and finally finding my voice, calling out to Brody. The paramedics kept forcing the mask back onto my face and keeping me down against the gurney as I tried searching out the rear of the ambulance for Brody, Gavin, my friends. I saw Nikki standing outside of the back of the ambulance on the phone while Asher and Lia stood on either side of her. She was talking to my mom, telling her they were taking me to the hospital to get checked.

  I remember crying the whole way to the hospital, the sirens blaring, keeping my heart racing with the vivid sound of panic it is meant to relay to everyone around it. The paramedic tried to calm me, tell me everything was going to be fine, I was going to be fine, but she didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. Everything was going to change, everyone was going to change, and while I was fine physically, she didn’t know my story, our story. I closed my eyes and let the tears pool around my ears as they continued to flow. Mom and Dad met the ambulance at the hospital. While the ER doctor checked me, mom spoke quietly on the phone to Dr. Larson, telling her where I was and what had happened and Gavin being taken into custody for a shooting at the school. Dad left the room when he got a call and didn’t come back for a while. Dad didn’t seem as anxious as Mom. I guess my reaction and the entire situation worried her enough to make her think I might have another mental breakdown like the one in California. When Mom got off the phone, she said she was taking me in to talk to her tomorrow. She did say Dr. Larson was assisting with Gavin’s intake at Pembroke, which was the only relief I had felt in hours. I guess that is why he switched from Austin State Hospital to Pembroke Psychiatric Center before being transferred from the police station.

  I still didn’t know how or where Brody was. Was he trying to see Gavin? Was Gavin sitting in a dark jail cell while Brody and his mom were arguing with the police to let them see him? I asked Mom and Dad to find out what was happening to Gavin and Brody. They both nodded, Mom crying and focused on me, Dad’s eyes looking tired as he reminded me that I needed to rest. The doctor said I likely passed out from stress and my parents never attempted to find out about Brody and Gavin. I didn’t hear anything about them until Nikki and Ash came to my house later that night after I was released.

  Nikki said that Brody and Mrs. Ferguson were down at the police department trying to see Gavin, as I suspected. They weren’t having any luck. The police told them that he was under suicide watch and wouldn’t be able to see anyone until he was admitted and evaluated at Pembroke Psych Center. Dad and Mom kept Nikki and Ash’s visit short,said I needed sleep. That was the last thing on my mind though and Mom knew it. She watched me take a Xanax to calm down enough to find sleep, even though the only thing I wanted to find was Brody; I haven’t seen him yet.

  It took so much of me to not ask Dr. Larson about Gavin the next day. I mean, she had just put my friend into a psych ward! How could I be expected to just sit there and talk about my feelings? I didn’t give a rat’s ass about my feelings. They didn’t matter; Gavin mattered. Brody mattered. I knew she couldn’t answer any questions about him, no matter how careful I was about phrasing it. She knew I needed to know how he was though. She told me that she felt called to help him. She said in some weird way she felt like she knew the family and Gavin. I never thought I would respect a shrink as much as I did in that moment. The differences of opinion on my own mental health didn’t matter as she told me Brody and Mrs. Ferguson would see Gavin in a few days after Gavin’s evaluations. I didn’t push her for information after that.

  She felt me out to see if I was a danger to myself or to anyone around me.

  ~Evan

  ***

  “I'm not going to have another breakdown if that is what you are wondering,” I say curtly

  “I'm not wondering, but your mother is Evan.”

  I huff, “Yeah well she wonders too much sometimes. She thinks I’m just like her and I am not.”

  “I would agree with you," she says confidently, but I’m not sure if she is agreeing with me on mom and I not being alike or the fact mom wonders too much.

  Chapter 1:

  Frozen In Time

  The drive home from Dr. Larson’sthe day after the shooting at the school is long with traffic, gives me time to jot some things down, kind of like Gavin did. Just thinking of him chokes me up again. As we pull into the driveway, I noticed Brody’s car in front of his house. I don’t give Mom the opportunity to deny me the privilege of walking over there to see him. She has been guarded with me afte
r we left the hospital.

  I step onto the porch and raise my hand to knock on the door as it opens quickly. Brody is standing there, not yet looking up to see me. As soon as he does, he pulls me into his arms. The force of his embrace makes me want to melt into him as far as I can. I can’t help but cry for everything that has happened between this moment and the past two days. As we pull apart, he runs his thumb against my cheek, brushing the tears away. I look into his eyes; they are red and blood-shot and sad, but he isn’t crying. I don’t think he has at all since it happened.

  ***

  The days that follow are a blur of time spent behind the closed doors of our houses; Lia’s, Nikki’s, Asher’s, Brody’s, and mine, but mostly Brody’s. The five of us are stuck together like glue that first week. It’s like we are afraid to be away from each other since one of our own has already been lost. When we aren’t together, we text or call each other. We steer clear of the random television station anchors stalking our houses. Mr. Bell is on alert to run them off from the Fergusons' house every chance he gets. He said he doesn’t want Brody to deal with that. When he is at work, Mrs. Bell takes her place as news reporter sentinel. I see where Nikki gets her feistiness from.

  Brody is the first to break out of this clustering petrification we have become. He had to take care of his mom, the massive amount of calls he was making and receiving from and to the police, the hospital, admissions at Pembroke Psych Center to discuss insurance issues,. On top of all of that, Mrs. Ferguson was a mess emotionally, is a mess still, I expect. Still, even with Dr. Larson telling him that they couldn’t see Gavin until he was evaluated and seeing his mother breaking down, there were no tears, only anger and demand and the need to seek justice; he has been in fight mode. Sadly, it reminds me of me, the way I spiral out of control once I reach a certain level of frustration or sadness or madness and rage. I felt bad and at one point ask if I could help.

  “Can I do anything?”

  “What are you going to do?” he questions condescendingly.

  I don’t know what I can do, I just know I needed to offer anything to help him through this.“Look, Evan, just stay out of it,” he says under his breath as he waits on hold with Pembroke Psych. That is the first day I leave the Ferguson house feeling unwelcome.

  It pisses me off enough to keep me away the rest of the day and night as I watch him sitting on the back porch staring out into their empty yard.

  ~December

  Nikki and I are the next to break out of this strange frozen state we all have been stricken by. She says we are the next to break out because we are fighters by instinct. I agree that she is a fighter, one of the strongest, bravest girls I have met. Maybe my frustration with Brody and anger that was building since the shooting had something to do with it, but I wouldn’t say I am an instinctual fighter especially with my track record: anti-social, a rebel, mental breakdown at seventeen, the possible onset of a mental disorder. None of that screams fighter.

  At my next shrink appointment with Dr. Larson, I tell her about the instinctual fighter conversation I had with Nikki and how I didn’t believe what she thought about me. Dr. Larson says she begs to differ and she thinks Nikki was on to something. Such a shrink way of saying that she agrees. Whatever.

  ~Evan

  Chapter 2:

  Fighter

  Nikki and I don’t want Gavin’s mental illness, the social tortures he has endured at our school, and how they played a huge part in his breakdown to go untold. While the newscasters give their highly rated false truths on the story, Nikki and I wanted to tell Gavin’s true story. With the petrified state of the community and our house, I wrote the article through Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Nikki did her editing magic with the software she had on her laptop.

  ***

  As soon as I see the draft on my email, I read it over and over again until my eyes blur with tears from the memories of Gavin and us. When I stop, the first thing I think is I have to get Brody’s and Mrs. Ferguson’s blessing to run it. More than that, it is a valid excuse to check on them. I hadn’t seen them in days.

  “Come in, honey,” Mrs. Ferguson says quietly, stepping back to let me in off the front porch.

  “How are you, Mrs. Ferguson?”

  “Today is a good day, honey. It is a good day,” she repeats as she gives me a soft embrace. She clears her throat and coughs, jarring us both a little. I pat her back.“Are you okay?”

  “Yes, just the allergies, I guess. Cedar is always so bad this time of year.” Mrs. Ferguson walks over to the sofa to start folding a crumpled blanket. Was she sleeping?

  “Oh, did I wake you?”

  What started as a clearing of her throat,turns into a full-on coughing attack that has her huffing and wheezing as she answers me.“Just layingdown for a few minutes.”

  She sounds terrible and it doesn’t sound like allergies.

  I try to make my observation as delicate as possible.“You sound like you have a cold. Have you gone to the doctor?”

  She breathes shallow as she speaks delicately, fearful of stirring up another coughing attack,“No, I will be all right.”

  With how Mrs. Ferguson looks and sounds, I consider not asking them about the article.

  Maybe I should just talk to Brody first?

  “Where’s Brody?”

  “Back porch,” she says as she sits back down on the couch and drinks from a cup of water.

  I look through the kitchen and out the window next to the back door. Brody’s shadowed silhouette is visible through the sheer drapes. I consider starting toward the back door when Mrs. Ferguson warns me,“Evan, it’s been one of those days, honey. With Christmas and all ... it’s just best you leave him be.”

  I feel terrible for not saying Merry Christmas to her now, but wonder if it would only make her miss Gavin more. I choose not to say anything.

  She sniffles and dabs her nose as she looks up at me.“You have seen how he gets. With all of the phone calls between the hospital, the police station, the news reporters. He has been dealing with all of it.”

  I forget about Brody and walk over to sit next to her. I put my hand on her back and rub softly.“I’m sorry.”

  She places her hand on my knee and looks out the window.“I’m sorry,Evan. Brody has always kept things in, not breaking in front of anyone, just like his dad.”

  She coughs again, her breathing labored as she tries to clear the crackling wetness in her throat.

  I wait patiently until she catches her breath before I hold out the folded article for her to take. She looks down at the article.“What is this?”

  Butterflies stir in my stomach as I worry how she will take it. Will she burst into tears? Start coughing?

  “It’s an article for the school paper. Nikki and I wrote it for Gavin. We would never feel comfortable putting it in the paper without yours and Brody’s blessing.”

  Mrs. Ferguson’s eyes well up and she covers her trembling mouth with the crumpled tissue in her hand.

  Shit, she is going to cry.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to upset you. Mrs...”

  She waves the worn tissue in her hand.“No, no, you didn’t make me sad. That is the best news I have had all day. Thank you.”

  She takes the article and starts to read it. The worst thing that could happen would be Brody walking in on me and his mother crying over an article about Gavin, so I gently suggest,“I would really like for you and Brody to read it together tonight, if that is okay?”

  She folds the article in half, lays it on the side table next to her cup, thensmiles softly at me through her tears.“I will read it tonight.”

  “Brody too,” I add just to make sure she understands that we want both of their blessing.

  She nods.“Yes, we will read it together.”

  “Thank you.”

  As I rise to leave, Mrs. Ferguson stops me with her words.“Give him time, Evan.”

  Even though I nod with understanding, my mind wonders how much lon
ger this will last for Brody.

  Later that night, I get a text from Brody:

  Brody: Hey

  Evan: Hey

  Brody: Thank you for the article for Gavin.

  Evan: So, you both read it? You and your Mom?

  Brody: Yes

  Okay, even his clipped and robotic texts appear like he doesn’t want to talk. He must feel obliged to let me know he got it, but he hasn’t said anything about letting us run the article. Did he hate it? Is he dodging the conversation? Wait, he texted me, so he definitely isn’t avoiding me. Is he?

  Shit.

  Seriously, I have never needed to think this hard about texting Brody.

  Evan: Do we have your Mom’s and your

  blessing to run it in the paper?

  He doesn’t respond for a long time. I know because I lay there watching my phone, willing it to ding. As I wait, I wonder if I have upset him and if he is not texting me back because he is over there crying about Gavin because I have touched a very deep nerve in him.

  Brody: Yes

  Feeling the safety net of a phone between us, and the ding of a response, I text him back.

  Evan: Did you want to talk?

  I know he has said that he doesn’t want to talk, but if I didn’t ask, I would feel like selfish bitch of a ... girlfriend, if that is even what I am. Hell, I don’t even know what I am right now. I mean, we haven’t kissed since before winter break. The point is, I care about him and he is my friend before anything else, even if that is all we can be right now.

  Brody: No. Gotta go.

  While the texted words don’t contain the emotion from him, just the electric waves of my smartphone, in my head they have a voice and it is cold and desperate to end this awkward conversation. Yeah, I could easily have texted him one more line – “Good night” or“See you tomorrow” – but it would be a pitiful plea for acceptance. And, while I do feel desperate inside, I don’t want to risk feeling even more rejection from him or him seeing the desperation.