When
Kacey
Left
DAWN GREEN
CONTENTS
When Kacey Left
Dedication
Prologue
August 14th
August 17th
August 23rd
August 28th
September 1st
September 2nd
September 7th
September 13th
September 18th
September 21st
September 22nd
October 6th
October 8th
October 10th
October 12th
October 14th
October 15th
October 18th
October 19th
October 20th
October 24th
October 25th
October 27th
October 29th
October 30th
October 31st November 1st
November 4th
November 7th
November 9th
November 10th
November 14th
November 16th
November 17th
November 21st
November 24th
November 26th
November 30th
December 1st
December 3rd
December 17th
Still December 17th
December 20th
December 22nd
December 23rd
December 26th
December 28th
January 1st
January 9th
January 10th
January 24th
February 4th
February 10th
February 13th
February 17th
February 22nd
March 3rd
March 8th
March 11th
March 12th
March 13th
March 18th
March 20th
March 22nd
March 24th
April 7th
April 20th
May 1st
Sticks
Acknowledgments
Suicide Information and Resources
Interview with Dawn Green
Copyright
To everyone who has ever lost anyone
So like, the obnoxious counselor woman gave me this journal and is asking telling making me write these letters to you. She says it’s a compromise—I say it’s a punishment—because I don’t like answering all her annoying questions.
“What would you like to talk about today?”—Nothing.
“How does that make you feel?”—I don’t know.
“Let’s explore that emotion…”—Let’s not.
“Why do you think your parents have asked you to see me?”—Because they don’t know what else to do with me.
“Would you like to talk about that?”—No. I don’t want to talk. Not now. Not ever.
I have to start out each letter with “When you left … something something something …” It’s supposed to help me deal with it or something. I think it’s stupid. But she’s watching me right now and, if I don’t keep writing, she’ll probably ask me more questions, so … ugghhh … fine, here I go …
August 14th
Dear Kacey,
When you left, everything changed. I mean everything. You always hear adults saying some crap about how life can change in an instant. The kind of talk that always made you roll your eyes in that dramatic “please don’t talk to me about this again” way. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t stay out too late at night. Don’t play with fireworks. Don’t drink and drive—it’s like, we know, already; leave it alone. But for real … life really can change in an instant.
For me, the instant was that phone call from Drea. You know, she called me and asked if I’d heard the news, like it was the latest gossip and she had the first scoop or something. I could hear the excitement in her voice when I told her I hadn’t heard anything about anything. Then she told me—
It was 11:14 in the morning—the “instant” when it all changed: 11:14. That time will never be the same for me again.
I was still sleeping. And when she told me, I actually thought I was still dreaming. Then my mom walked in and I saw the look on her face and I knew it was real.
Drea and I aren’t friends anymore. Friends off!! Just one of the many life changes that happened after
To be honest, I think you were the only reason I was friends with her in the first place. Since you left, she’s actually become kind of popular. I think everyone just feels bad for her. I think she’s using the whole thing to get attention. The last thing I want is to talk to people about it. Which is why, I guess, everyone is so worried about me. My mom says that everyone deals with grief in a different way. Drea wants lots of friends around her and I don’t want any. I just don’t want anyone around me. Just leave me alone!!
I think that’s all I want to write for now.
It’s funny, the OC (obnoxious counselor) woman told me how to start but she didn’t say how I should end.
Later, I guess.
Sticks
August 17th
Dear Kacey,
When you left, I had to start seeing this OC woman twice a week. It’s summertime and there are so many places I’d rather be, things I’d rather be doing—okay, not true. I’d probably be in my room, staring at that stain on my ceiling that you said looks like an elephant. But still, it’s summer and that’s, like, sacred time. Granted, this is officially the crappiest summer ever but still, I should be allowed my own free time. Instead, I’m here, in this stupid yellow office that smells like vanilla candles (you know I hate vanilla). I obviously don’t want to be here, but my mom says I have to go or I’m grounded. When she told me that, I slammed the door in her face and yelled, “Fine, then ground me.” And I would have been totally fine with it, but then my dad came to talk with me and said that sometimes we have to do things we don’t like so others can be happy … or some crap like that. I don’t really care if my mom’s happy or not—I’m the one who lost a best friend—but then he told me that I’d get ten dollars every time I went (something I can’t tell my mom).
So now I’m here and writing in this stupid journal because, every appointment, the OC checks to see that I’m writing something to you. She says she doesn’t really read it, though, just kind of looks to see that I’ve written something. Not sure I believe her, but anyway, this is me, writing something.
This is so stupid.
Sticks
August 23rd
Dear Kacey,
When you left, I stopped sleeping. That’s why it’s 2:19 AM and I’m writing in this STUPID JOURNAL!! Not because I want to (let’s be clear), only because I have nothing better to do.
I can’t sleep. Well, I sleep sometimes—mostly in the day when I’m watching TV. It’s just something about the night. I try falling asleep, but then I start thinking about you and I start to wonder where you are. Did you end up in heaven? You know how I feel about the whole church thing. I had to go, by the way, to your funeral. Well, they didn’t call it a “funeral”; it was a “Celebration of Life”—like somehow that makes it all better. It didn’t feel much like a celebration. It was awkward and weird. It felt like the whole school came out. Really, it was standing room only!!
Remember? We used to talk about stuff like that, wonder who would come to our funerals if we died. Well, I can tell you that everyone came out for yours—all our friends, other students, kids we don’t like, teachers from every grade, even our old French teacher Madam Girard, who we thought hated you, was there. I had to say hi and pretend to smile at so many people. My mom said it was
the “right” thing to do. Everyone was talking about you. How they knew you. How they met you. When they met you. It all started to feel like one big game of who knew Kacey best. Like, who should be hurting the most or something.
I know it was your funeral but I hated it. Everywhere I went, someone was in my face. “Sara, I’m so sorry to hear about Kacey. How are you doing?”
“How the fuck do you think I’m doing?”—it’s not what I said, but it’s what I wanted to say. Although the f-word probably wouldn’t have gone over too well in church.
“It’s just sooooo sad … soooo sad … Soooo young”—that was said a lot.
Oh, and—“What a tragedy. Such a loss. Her poor family.”
But the number one saying at your funeral has to have been: “It’s just too bad. She’s going to be missed.” So there, people miss you already. I know I do. The whole time at the funeral, I kept thinking how I wish you were there so we could talk about it. But that would be weird, talking about your funeral at your funeral. Although, if you knew how many people were there or how many people were going to miss you, then maybe … maybe things would be different.
Maybe we should all have living funerals so people can know how much they are loved. Maybe then they will know they’re not alone.
Of course your family was there. Your mom was a mess and your dad stood at the back of the church the entire time. Owen sat next to me and didn’t say anything. I think he was in shock or something. And don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him for you. Drea sat next to me, too. I think she liked that we got to sit at the front. She cried the entire time, and I’m not saying she wasn’t sad but, after the first fifteen minutes, it felt really phony—like, enough already, we get it, you’re sad. I’m just getting so annoyed with her.
You know what was really weird? Our entire Girl Guide group was there. My mom got mad because I kept looking back at them. She said that I needed to “pay attention,” like we were in school or something. When did we stop going to Guides? Like, what, almost five years ago? But they were all there, dressed in blue and grouped together at the back of the church. You know those pictures of police and fireman funerals when all the officers are lined up in uniform to pay tribute? It was like that, but with pigtails and hand-sewn patches. I was waiting for them to give you some kind of a cookie salute. My mom says they were there because, again, it was the “right” thing to do. I didn’t get it … once a Guide always a Guide, I guess.
The church minister / reverend / priest guy spoke about the tragedy of losing someone so young and all that kind of stuff. He never said anything about heaven, though. I bet you’re there, or somewhere nice. Sometimes I wonder if you’re still here, like, in my room, right now, watching me write this. Are you? It would be so you to do that.
Just don’t haunt me, okay?!!
Night.
Sticks
August 28th
Dear Kacey,
When you left, summer sucked. I honestly don’t know why you left, but I really don’t get why you had to leave during the summer. Why not before exams or January? Summer used to be our time. Don’t you remember when we were little and we’d spend every night of the summer at each other’s houses?! We used to get so excited about the summer that we’d start planning what we were going to do about a month before school ended.
There was that one summer when we planned to watch a hundred movies—we only made it to seventy-eight, but it was still an epic summer. Remember? We did it by making our own genres. I know you argued for B-movie horror week, but 80’s teen classic week was / is still my favorite.
Then there was that other summer when we tried to master a video game a week. Your mom got so mad at us for staying inside when it was nice out, but you came back with the best argument—“Mom, I know it’s nice out, but we set a goal to master one game a week. You should be happy we’re trying to achieve our goals.” What’s funny is that she left us alone after that. I think we ended up mastering seven games that summer.
And still, the title of “Best Summer Ever” has to go to the one when my parents took us on that camping road trip. We whined until they took us to every waterpark that we passed by. OMG, that was the road trip when you and I each had a vanilla milkshake from that sketchy-looking truck stop, and then we both got carsick. Well, technically, you got carsick first, and then the smell of it made me throw up as well. My parents were pissed, and then they made a rule that we couldn’t drink any more milk products before a drive. We stayed up every night staring up at the stars, talking about everything and nothing, until we either fell asleep or my mom came out and made us go to bed.
You: See that star up there?
Me: I see a million stars.
You: That one. The one beside the big one that looks like it’s blinking, almost.
Me: I think that’s a satellite.
You: Shut up, it’s a star.
Me: (laughing) Okay, whatever. What about it?
You: It’s called Kaceyopia.
Me: It is not.
You: It is now. And that one, just below it, that’s Saratarius. The legend is that …
Me: What legend?
You: If you’d shut it, I’ll tell you. Geez, interruptus, much?
Me: Sorry.
You: Okay, a long time ago, like a really long time, when there were Greek gods and monsters and stuff, there were these two best friends …
Me: Let me guess, Kacey and Sara?
You: Princess Kacey and Princess Sara, to be exact. But they were from different kingdoms and their families were sworn enemies, so they had to keep their friendship a secret. One day Princess Kacey overheard the Queen plotting to destroy Princess Sara’s family. She sent a … a wizard named …
Me: Zoltar
You: Really?
Me: Why not?
You: Okay, a wizard named Zoltar … to cast a spell on the other kingdom. A spell that would put the entire kingdom to sleep forever. But Princess Kacey didn’t want anything to happen to her friend, so she snuck out in the middle of the night, stole a horse, and fought countless monsters and dragons to reach Princess Sara before Zoltar could cast his spell.
Me: Wait. Doesn’t Princess Sara get to fight monsters and dragons, too?
You: Uh, sure. They both fought monsters.
Me: And dragons.
You: Yes, and dragons. Anyway, fast forward: after Zoltar had put all of the kingdom to sleep, he stormed the castle where Princess Sara was waiting, and of course she bravely did everything she could to fight him off, but he was too powerful and, just as he was pointing his wand and casting his spell, Princess Kacey burst in and dove in front of Sara to save her.
Me: And what happened?
You: She was too late.
Me: What?!
You: It’s not always a happily ever after. But, even though the spell hit both of them and they went to sleep forever, the power of their friendship turned them into stars, and now they are up there. And each time it looks like they are kind of blinking, it is actually the two of them laughing about their adventures together. The end.
Me: Kacey?
You: Ya?
Me: Why’d you leave?
You: You know I can’t answer that. Look around; this is just a memory.
We didn’t really plan out anything to do this summer. Actually, I don’t think we were talking much in the spring.
This summer sucks.
Sticks
September 1st
Dear Kacey,
When you left … Does this matter? You’re gone and this letter-writing thing is bullshit … blah, blah, blah. I HATE you, obnoxious counselor.
Fuck off.
Sticks
P.S. You know why it’s bullshit? Because it’s not going to bring you back—nothing is. When you left, you left. You’re gone—GONE—and nothing I write in this journal is ever going to change that.
September 2nd
Dear Kacey,
When you left … Why did you leave? I don’t get i
t.
Sticks
September 7th
Dear Stones, (I know you want me to write “Dear Kacey,” you obnoxious counselor woman, but to me she was “Stones,” so that’s what I’m writing.)
When you left, life went on … unfortunately. It’s the first day of school and, even though I played the “dead friend” card and told my mom that I wasn’t ready to see anyone yet, she made me go. The first day of every school year has always been awkward, but this year was especially awkward … super awkward … awkward of epic proportions.
Normally, I have you to hang with. Normally, we go together. This year, my dad drove me and, as soon as I stepped out of the car, I knew it was going to be a bad day. You know how movies always have that dream sequence, where someone dreams that they go to school naked and everyone is looking at them—pointing at them—whispering about them … Well, I wasn’t naked, but it felt a lot like I was the one in those dream sequences.
We had that first-day assembly in the theater and, when I walked in, I swear, everyone stopped talking and turned to look at me at the same time. Then there was a lot of whispering. All I wanted to do was scream, “YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT?” But I didn’t. I just stood there like an idiot, pretending like I didn’t know everyone was staring at me while I looked for a place to sit.
I looked for Drea—I don’t know why. Familiar face, I guess. She was sitting right in the middle of everyone, and I know she saw me. She looks different this year. She straightened her hair, and I’m pretty sure she’s wearing more makeup. I heard that her parents gave her a lot of money after you left, to help her deal or something. She got money and I got therapy. Lame.
Anyway, as I was standing there looking like an idiot, I felt my phone vibrate. It was a text from Loren: Come sit with me. Far left, second row.
Me: Hey.
Loren: Hey.
Me: Thanks for saving me a seat.
Loren: Well, you looked kind of awkward standing at the front.
Me: Yeah, it felt like everyone stopped and looked at me when I walked in.