Jodi Picoult, in one of her interviews, shares that she writes about things that keep her up at night. If you are concerned about the children in America, especially related to bullying and school shootings, this book is a must-read. It is a book that takes who, will one day become a school shooter, from his first day in kindergarten on through the actual Nineteen Minutes
within the school that day, through the actual day and on through to the investigation, trial, and through to how the event changed those intimately involved with the tragedy.
It is a review between the balance of being bullied and what becomes the breaking point for those being bullied. Of course, it is impossible to have predicted when that breaking point will occur... Indeed, the final ending was almost anti-climatic, even when it revealed a surprise not anticipated...
It wasn’t something he’d put on his résumé, but Jordan was especially gifted at cutting the rug to Wiggles songs. His personal favorite was “Hot Potato,” but the one that really got Sam jazzed up was "Fruit Salad."
While Selena was upstairs taking a hot bath, Jordan put on the DVD—she was opposed to bombarding Sam with media, and didn’t want him to be able to spell D-O-R-O-T-H-Y, as in Dinosaur, before he could even write his own name.
Selena always wanted Jordan to be doing something else with the baby, like memorizing Shakespeare or solving differential equations—but Jordan was a big believer in letting the television do its job in turning one’s brain into porridge . . . at least long enough to get one good, silly tango session out of it. Babies were always just the right weight, so that when you finally put them down, you felt like something was missing. “Fruit salad . . . yummy yummy!” Jordan crooned, whirling around until Sam opened his mouth and let a peal of giggles ribbon out. The doorbell rang, and Jordan sashayed himself and his tiny partner through the entryway to answer it. Harmonizing—sort of—with Jeff, Murray, Greg, and Anthony in the background,
Jordan opened the door. “Let’s make some fruit salad today,” he sang, and then he saw who was standing on his porch. “Judge Cormier!”
“Sorry to interrupt.” He already knew that she’d recused herself from the case—that happy announcement had been passed down this afternoon.
“No, that’s fine. Come on . . . in.” Jordan glanced back at the trail of toys that he and Sam had left in their wake (he had to clean those up before Selena came back downstairs, too). Kicking as many as he could behind the couch, he led the judge into his living room and switched off the DVD. “This must be your son.” “Yeah.” Jordan looked down at the baby, who was in the process of deciding whether or not to throw a fit now that the music had been turned off. “Sam.”
She reached out, letting Sam curl his hand around her forefinger. Sam could charm the pants off Hitler, probably, but seeing him only seemed to make Judge Cormier more agitated. “Why did you put my daughter on your witness list?”
Ah. “Because,” Jordan said, “Josie and Peter used to be friends, and I may need her as a character witness.” “They were friends ten years ago. Be honest. You did this to get me off the case.” Jordan hefted Sam higher on his hip. “Your Honor, with all due respect, I’m not going to allow anyone to try this case for me. Especially not a judge who isn’t even involved in it anymore.” He watched something flare behind her eyes.
“Of course not,” she said tightly, and then she turned on her heel and walked out.
* * *
Ask a random kid today if she wants to be popular and she’ll tell you no, even if the truth is that if she was in a desert dying of thirst and had the choice between a glass of water and instant popularity, she’d probably choose the latter.
~~~
The dynamics of the involved parents plays an important part in this book. Perhaps that might be that this book has been recommended to be placed on the Banned Books List... You may already know that I'm a fan of Velshi and his Banned Book Club. This is one of the books shared recently on his weekend MSNBC programs. Of significant importance was that the mother of one of the students, Josie, involved in the shooting was, at one time, a close friend of the shooter (Peter). The mother was also a judge and would have been named for the trial until her involvement was questioned and she recused herself.
This single mother had realized that her relationship with her daughter had become difficult. Indeed, the relationship of the boy's parents had also been a problem, for the boy--but neither of the parents had realized the extent with their second son--nor had they made a point of forcing involvement with them. In this case, I used the word forcing on purpose. Of course, it is not necessarily my opinion, although I admit it was. But both of the parents became critical of their own actions, or lack thereof... But it was too late...
Get down,” Matt hissed, and he shoved Josie so that she fell behind the wooden bench. It wasn’t a good place to hide, but then, nowhere in the locker room was a good place to hide. Matt’s plan had been to climb out the window in the shower, and he’d even opened it up, but then they’d heard the shots in the gym and realized they didn’t have time to drag the bench over and climb through. They’d boxed themselves in, literally.
She curled herself into a ball and Matt crouched down in front of her. Her heart thundered against his back, and she kept forgetting to breathe. He reached behind him until he found her hand. “If anything happens, Jo,” he whispered, “I loved you.”
Josie started to cry. She was going to die; they were all going to die. She thought of a hundred things she hadn’t done yet that she so badly wanted to do: go to Australia, swim with dolphins. Learn all the words to “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Graduate. Get married. She wiped her face against the back of Matt’s shirt, and then the locker room burst open.
Peter stumbled inside, his eyes wild, holding a handgun. His left sneaker was untied, Josie noticed, and then she couldn’t believe she noticed. He lifted his gun at Matt, and she couldn’t help it; she screamed. Maybe it was the noise; maybe it was her voice. It startled Peter, and he dropped his backpack. It slid off his shoulder, and as it did, another gun fell out of an open pocket. It skittered across the floor, landing just behind Josie’s left foot.
Do you know how there are moments when the world moves so slowly you can feel your bones shifting, your mind tumbling? When you think that no matter what happens to you for the rest of your life, you will remember every last detail of that one minute forever? Josie watched her hand stretch back, watched her fingers curl around the cold black butt of the gun. Fumbling it, she staggered upright, pointing the gun at Peter. Matt backed away toward the showers, under Josie’s cover. Peter held his gun steady, still pointing it at Matt, even though Josie was closer.
“Josie,” he said. “Let me finish this.”
“Shoot him, Josie,” Matt said. “Fucking shoot him.”
Peter pulled back the slide of the gun so that a bullet from the clip would cycle into place. Watching him carefully, Josie mimicked his actions. She remembered being in nursery school with Peter—how other boys would pick up sticks or rocks and run around yelling "Hands up." What had she and Peter used the sticks for? She couldn’t recall.
“Josie, for Christ’s sake!” Matt was sweating, his eyes wide. “Are you fucking stupid?”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Peter cried.
“Shut up, asshole,” Matt said. “You think she’s going to save you?” He turned to Josie. “What are you waiting for? Shoot.”
So she did. As the gun fired, it ripped two stripes of her skin from the base of her thumb. Her hands jerked upward, numb, humming... He stood for a moment, shocked, his hand over the wound in his stomach...
Josie’s hand started shaking violently; she wasn’t surprised when the gun just fell out of it, as singularly repelled by her grasp as it had been glued to it moments before. “Matt,” she cried, running toward him. She pressed her hands against the blood, because that’s what you were supposed to do, wasn’t it, but he writhed and screamed in agony. Blood began to bubble out of his mouth, trailing down his neck. “Do something,” she sobbed, turning to Peter. “Help me.”
Peter walked closer, lifted the gun he was holding, and shot Matt in the head. Horrified, she scrambled backward, away from them both... She stared at Peter, and she realized that in that one moment, when she hadn’t been thinking, she knew exactly what he’d felt as he moved through the school with his backpack and his guns. Every kid in this school played a role: jock, brain, beauty, freak. All Peter had done was what they all secretly dreamed of: be someone, even for just nineteen minutes, who nobody else was allowed to judge.
~~~
This is my first book by this author. I try to read more books by independent writers to provide them support that is routinely provided by major publishers. I was impressed with this writer and her ability to capture the overall tale that is so often left untold. Whether this was fiction, or not, her merge of what happens in today's schools, where students are grouped by status of sports and popularity is a problem in my opinion. We are in a world where the students are either over-controlled, or allowed to do anything they want without any feedback.
I don't know whether it was an oversight--or whether they author decided that, since the first son was already dead, that what he had done would only compound the problems of the parents. I think this was a wrong choice. Peter's brother was a jock, into drugs, and he also was one of Peter's bullies! While Peter had undoubtedly been abused by his brother all of his life, it certainly got worse when he joined the "jock" crowd to intimidate and make fun of his brother, which, of course, allowed others to do so. Sibling are different. Each child should be applauded for those differences rather than allow a comparison of the two to be made. Even worse, when it is the parents that make that comparison. Which they routinely did, as Peter revealed in his thoughts...
Yes, it is important to strive to deal with gun control. But it is also important to acknowledge that each student may have a reason(s) for becoming so frustrated that they finally break. With the proliferation and accessibility of guns, within the family, this was especially a major problem that could only have allowed Peter to move into his chosen path forward. Just my personal opinion, of course...
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