The Lucky Ones – Liz Lawson

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Nome: The Lucky Ones
Autor: Liz Lawson
Lançamento: 2020
ISBN 13: 9780593118498
Páginas: 352
Edição: Inglês 

Como você se recomponha quando parece que você perdeu tudo?

May é uma sobrevivente. Mas ela não se sente como uma. Ela sente raiva. E perdida. E sozinha. Onze meses após o tiroteio na escola que matou seu irmão gêmeo, May ainda não sabe por que ela foi a única a sair da sala da banda naquele dia. Ninguém entende o que ela passou – ninguém viu e ouviu o que ela fez. Ninguém pode entender como é ser ela.

Zach perdeu sua vida quando sua mãe decidiu defender o atirador. Sua namorada o deixou, seus amigos o abandonaram, e agora ele passa o tempo com sua irmã mais nova… e o único amigo fiel que ficou por perto. Seu melhor amigo é desfavorecido e exigente, mas ele não vai deixar Zach desaparecer dentro de si mesmo. É assim que Zach acaba no ensaio da banda naquela noite. Na mesma noite, May vai com sua melhor amiga para fazer um teste para uma nova banda.

É assim que May conhece Zach. E como Zach conhece May. E como ambos podem descobrir que sobreviver pode ser uma opção depois de tudo. 

Já faz um tempo, não?

Bem, as leituras estão rendendo (finalmente) e eu to saindo de um livro para o outro. Não sem chorar, claro. Por isso que as resenhas ficaram de lado. Entre em julho e agosto foi uma tacada só de cinco livros. Não acharam que eu ia falar, sei lá, quinze livros, né? Eu gosto de ler com calma. Não estou em nenhuma competição de quem ler mais.

Enfim, The Lucky Ones aborda os ataques em massa nas escolas americanas. E infelizmente no Brasil também, já que tivemos alguns ataques em escolas. Os mais falados foram de Realengo em 2011 e em Suzano em 2019. Mas houveram outros ataques no Brasil, mas porque estes dois últimos são os mais falados? Pelo número de vítimas e a idade de delas. Não vou me prolongar, mas vou deixar os dados para vocês:

• Salvador, 2002 – duas vítimas
• Taiúva, 2003 – oito pessoas feridas e o único morto foi o próprio atirador
• Realengo, 2011 – doze vítimas e treze feridos
• São Caetano do Sul, 2011 – uma professora ferida. Novamente o atirador foi o único morto.
• João Pessoa, 2012 – três alunos feridos
• Goiânia, 2017 – dois alunos mortos e quatro feridos
• Medianeira, 2018 – dois estudante feridos.
• Suzano, 2019 – 8 vítimas e os dois assassinos.

Fonte: DW (Data 14.03.2019 – acessado em 23/08/2020)

Em nota, a autora visa que ela começou a escrever o livro antes do ataque em massa em Parkland, Flórida – EUA (inclusive ela cita o nome de todas das vítimas). Ela diz que escreveu esse livro para todas as vítimas desses crimes que acontecem com frequência nos EUA e para aqueles que viveram e vivem a realidade de um dia sua escolar poder ser a próxima vítima. Mas o livro mesmo aborda aqueles que sobreviveram aos ataques.

No final do livro, a May cita os nomes de todas as vítimas da escola dela para que eles nunca sejam esquecidos. Isso veio das vítimas de Parkland quando eles pediram para a mídia e todas as pessoas não citarem os assassinos, mas sim o nome de todas as vítimas para que elas fossem lembradas e não eles.

Aliás, existe um livro sobre o ataque em Parkland, escrito pelo mesmo autor que escreveu um livro sobre Columbine, Dave Cullen:

O livro conta a história de May, a única sobrevivente de uma ataque na sala de música; e de Zach, filho da advogada que pegou o caso do garoto responsável pela morte do irmão gêmeo de May, Jordan, e seus amigos que estava naquela sala.

May tem toda uma raiva guardada em si: da mãe não presente, do pai que nunca está em casa e de Michelle Teller, a advogada que pegou o caso do assassino de seu irmão.

A história começa quando May começa em uma escola nova, onde todos os alunos da sua antiga escola foram transferidos. O motivo? O ataque ocorrido na escola que assombrava seus corredores. A diretoria achou que era melhor começar em um novo lugar.

O que May são esperava era sentir algo no meio de toda a sua raiva. Pior, sentir algo por Zach Teller, filho da tal advogada que aceitou defender uma pessoa que matou os amigos e irmão de May.

Esse livro mostra o que é chamada de “a culpa do sobrevivente”. May se culpa de ter se escondido no armário da sala de música enquanto seu irmão e seus colegas morriam do lado de fora. Essa culpa que ela carrega, traz um trauma que a deixa com raiva de todos. Mas será que May está sendo justa com os outros?

Mais um livro que eu acho que chorei lendo 85% dele. Nunca senti a dor de perder um irmão, mas acho que uma das funções de um livro é aprender a sentir pelo menos 1% do que os outros sentem. A dor de May é real, mas porque ela se sente culpada. Seu irmão era o gênio da família e, para ela, seus pais se importavam mais com Jordan do que com ela. Isso a fez pegar uma repulsa de seu irmão.

Quando o ataque na escola acontece, ela se sente culpada. Culpada por ter se afastado de Jordan, culpada de sempre estar em festas e bebendo, culpada de ter se irritado com seu irmão advertindo ela sobre a bebida.

Quando ela conhece Zach, ele não sabe que ela é irmão de Jordan e o cara mais conhecido por ter ser aceito cedo na faculdade. Ou por ser um gênio. Eles se conhecem em uma aula de teatro na qual nenhum dos dois queria participar. Mas é um teste de baterista na banda do melhor amigo de Zach que aproxima eles.

Zach é responsável pela sua irmã mais nova e de limpar os ataques que acontecem em sua casa depois que sua mãe assumiu o caso. Ele também se sente desamparado. Sua mãe nunca está em casa por causa do seu emprego. Seu pai não sai do quarto depois que ele perdeu seu emprego e seu sonho de ser um músico foi por água abaixo.

O livro aborda, além de uma tragédia que acontece frequentemente nos Estado Unidos (não só o ataque nas escolas com armas semi-automáticas, mas em cinemas, casas de eventos e em todo lugar), aborda também a depressão do pai de Zach, a perda de um filho pelos pais da May, a falta (ou negação) de um acompanhamento psicológico (ou a negação dele. como May faz) e o luto.

Como May estava mergulhada em seu luto, ela não imaginou que outras pessoas também estariam sofrendo o mesmo luto dela. O amigo que perdeu o pai no ataque, a amiga dela que tinha um crush no irmão dela. Ou naquele colega que não foi à aula, mas que perdeu os dois melhores amigos.

Um livro nota 10 para pensar sobre o que a pessoa ao seu lado pode estar passando, mas também porque aquela pessoa está tão “arisca”.

Liz Lawson abordou temas que precisam ser discutidos entre as pessoas, principalmente o uso de armas e a saúde mental.

O livro foi lançado pela Delacorte Press (um dos selo da Penguim Random House) e acredito que seja um livro muito importante para ser publicado no Brasil.

Quem quiser adquirir o livro, clique na imagem abaixo:

“I’m a SURVIVOR.
I’m the leftover.
The lucky one.
The only one in that room who lived.
And now I’m back in school.
It sucks.”

“It’s amazing how fast people will turn on you, even after you’ve known them practically your whole life.”

I haven’t socialized much in the past eleven months; Lucy is like my second brain, and my parents…God knows if I even know how to interact with people anymore. Probably not.

“That’s the way my family has always communicated—through our weekly schedules. It used to make sense: when Jordan was around, my parents had to juggle work and his various activities, all the details of who was driving him where, when. Back before things got really tense between us, Jordan used to joke that without all his extracurriculars, our parents wouldn’t know what to do with themselves, and I’d reply, Also they wouldn’t know what to talk to me about, which was funny at the time but really not funny at all when I think back on it. Now, on the rare occasions when we run into each other, there’s always this brief moment of confusion on their end like Wait a second, who is this strange girl in our house? before they remember who I am and that I still exist.”

“Also—and this isn’t like an actual thing I’ve been thinking about, because I have no interest in boys or dating right now or ever again—that kid Zach seemed pretty cool. And he was even cuter close up. The other night, sitting there with him after I almost freaked out for the dumbest reason ever…I almost felt safe.

I haven’t felt safe in so long.”

“I force myself past the seven photos, the faces smiling down: reminders that we’re still here and they aren’t.

That I’m still here and he isn’t.”

“Zach Teller, I presume?”

My heart stops beating as he opens his mouth to answer. It opens and closes with no sound.
Teller.
Now he looks over at me.
And I can’t look away.
His last name is Teller.”

“Can someone please take her to the nurse?”

Everyone just sits there, silent. Apparently, no one wants to get involved, which is so messed up, considering that just about every assembly we had last semester was about how we need to speak up if we see someone in pain, how we need to support each other. Way to go, fellow students.”

“I know I should leave her alone, but I want to protect her, even if the thing I’m trying to protect her from is me.”

“Everyone else around me has healed, moved on, put up memorials, but these letters are my reminder that nothing will ever be the same. And I deserve to be reminded. Punished.

It’s my payment for surviving”

“I’m so done with this day, this week, this year. This life.”

“They survived. They’re alive.
You’ll never see Jordan at one of their stupid meetings.”

“I’m totally and irrevocably cracked in half. Sometimes I think I was born again that day in the band room, that the old me was murdered along with everyone else, replaced with this new person who’s angry and scared and broken.”

Who the fuck is this?” I yell back at Zach.

“No clue.” His lips brush my ear. They’re warm. Soft. “They suck.”
I allow him a tiny smile. My first tonight.”

“Now there are times when I can barely stand the sight of her, when her mere presence feels like a heavy weight on my head that won’t go away. She’s like a walking, talking reminder of everything I used to be.”

“My biggest pet peeve about coming to Conor’s shows—other than Matt, obviously—is the total lack of personal space. Like, can’t this guy take a hint and move over? Respect my boundaries? It’s like I’m invisible to him.”

“(…) all I can think about is how when Miles and I dated, the only places he ever took me were parties where we’d get wasted and do stupid shit. He never wanted to do anything else. Back then I didn’t care; I liked getting fucked-up way too much. That’s what our super-healthy relationship was built on—being cool and partying.”

About a third of my body is still icy cold and sick feeling, and I hate it and all I want to do is walk and ignore it and not let Zach see even more of the brokenness inside me.”

“Now here I am, in my undeserved future, without Jordan, with Michelle Teller’s kid by my side.
Lost.”

I peek over the railing, down to the first floor. It’s huge. Rows and rows of books and stacks of vinyl albums and all these people browsing: it reminds me of a long time ago when my dad was around—like, mentally speaking—and he would take me to the Northridge Mall on Sundays and let me roam around the bookstore there. Gwen was too little, and my mom was always working, even then, so the outings were always just him and me; we would spend hours together, not talking, at peace, lost in our separate worlds. Those are some of the last decent memories I have of my father.”

“That day…I was in the closet forever. I don’t even know how long I was in there. It was so small and so dark, and all I could hear were booms and screams, and I was so sure that any second the door was going to open…”

“I’ve never talked about any of this. Not with the therapist they made me go see, not with Lucy or Grann, no matter how hard they tried to get me to open up, and especially not with my parents. And yet, right now, I can’t stop myself. Zach’s silence has this weird pull on me, and his arm around my shoulders has unlocked something deep inside my chest.
It’s been so long since I’ve been touched.”

“I was in that closet, searching for an extra music stand, all slow and hungover from hanging out with Chim the night before, when I heard David come into the room—heard Mr. Oppenheimer say, Ecchles, you aren’t in this class—and then a boom and then the screams. All the screams. I tucked my head between my knees and stayed in there, in that closet. Shoved my hands against my ears and tried to block out the sounds coming from the other room, the cries, Mr. Oppenheimer’s voice pleading, Stop, please stop, shoot me instead, more shots.

And then, silence.

The silence was the worst. It felt louder than anything that preceded it; it pressed against my entire body like a vise.”

“When they found me, I couldn’t unball my body; it was like all my muscles had frozen in place.

They had to pick me up and carry me out of the building like that. I kept my eyes wide open as they took me through the room where the bodies had been. I knew I needed it burned into my brain, knew I deserved to have that picture carved into my mind with the sharpest instrument possible so it would stay with me for the rest of my life.

I left them all out there to die”

“A part of me wants to ditch him in this bookstore. He’s getting to me; I can feel it. That evil little part of me wants to run down the stairs away from him, find Lucy, and pretend that none of this ever happened. He’s digging his way into my heart, and I hate him for it.”

“I don’t normally try to touch random girls, you know….”

“Now I’m random?”

“No!” Shut up, Zach. “You’re not random at all. You’re the opposite of random. Like, unrandom. Is that a word?”

She shakes her head like she’s trying not to laugh. At least my idiocy is good for something.”

“I blush. I hate my fair skin and how red it gets when I blush, like a smashed tomato. “Sorry.” I roll my eyes. “I mean— Sorry. Fuck! Why can’t I stop saying that?”

She’s full-on laughing now. “You’re a mess.”

I shrug. “I haven’t exactly socialized a lot in the past few months. My skills are rusty.”

“I’ve gone from babbling to mute; my brain short-circuited as soon as my skin connected with May’s. She’s quiet too, and I swear to god I can feel her heart beating through her skin. Her face is raised toward the night sky, her eyes closed. She is beautiful.

I take a breath and start to lean toward her. I’m not trying to kiss her; I just want to be closer to her. Her lips part and her tongue darts out of her mouth to catch drops of rain. She is peaceful for the first time tonight. I could stare at her forever.”

“I don’t care if she thinks she’s broken.

I know she’s not.”

“And after the colors have started to fade, my first conscious thought of the morning enters my head: Jordan would have liked Zach.”

“I could tell, standing there on the street waiting for the car to come, that something was happening between us, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. That’s what I told myself, over and over, last night on the way home: I don’t care.”

“His smile doesn’t have that sadness around its edges that it does now. A sadness most people would miss but that I recognize because I’ve seen it in the mirror, on my own face”

“I mean, honestly.

I’m walking out of my bedroom to answer the front door, but my mom gets there first. Dammit dammit dammit. I didn’t think she was home.”

“This isn’t some fairy tale where you’re going to swoop in and save me

“I hear a cough, and then May’s laughing. Full-body, tears-in-her-eyes laughing. She even snorts.

It’s awesome.”

“God, we are both such freaks. I’m glad I met you, Teller. Even if your mom is an asshole. I haven’t laughed like that in years.”

My heart skips a beat.”

“Your mom went out?” My voice ends with a squeak. Real smooth.

She rolls her eyes. “Calm down, nerd. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I didn’t think…I know! I wasn’t…” SHUT UP, ZACH. God, sometimes I want to throw myself out the closest open window.”

“Your mom went out?” My voice ends with a squeak. Real smooth.

She rolls her eyes. “Calm down, nerd. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I didn’t think…I know! I wasn’t…” SHUT UP, ZACH. God, sometimes I want to throw myself out the closest open window.”

“We don’t go in there. His room.” Her voice shakes with nerves. “I used to. Right after everything, I slept in there a bunch. I couldn’t believe that he was gone. That I wouldn’t wake up and find him sitting at the foot of the bed, looking at me like What are you doing sleeping in my room?”

“Then there was one morning a few weeks after…I overslept, and my parents didn’t know where I was. My mom found me in here and…Jesus.” She rubs her forehead. “It was like she’d seen a ghost.” Her jaw clenches. “Anyway, we haven’t gone in since. None of us. It’s been almost a year, and this is the closest I’ve come to setting foot inside.”

And then she reaches out and opens the door.

She’s crying.”

“I miss him so much.”

I close the distance between us. Put my arms around her. Pull her toward me. Say the first thing that comes into my head.

“I wish I’d known him”

“I haven’t talked about Jordan with anyone since he died, and tonight I can’t stop. I tell Zach about the pranks we used to play on our parents when we were younger, before Jordan’s extracurricular activities took over our lives, activities that I was a part of before my parents seemed to realize that I’d never catch up to him. That I’d never be on his level. It was like this unspoken, gradual thing, until finally he was the one with everything and I was the one left at home, studying in my room, looking for a way out.”

“I forgot some of these stories until tonight, forgot that we used to have fun together, as a family. That Jordan and I used to have fun together. Even before the shooting, things had gone sour between us, and with my parents—my dad was always trying to get Jordan to do more, to push himself harder.”

“Maybe it’s good to open up about things before they begin to eat you from the inside out and eventually crater your soul.”

“Now he’s here, on the brown suede couch, where Jordan used to sit, and it’s surreal. That day in drama when I found out who he was, I never imagined this. I never imagined he’d be sitting next to me, listening to me talk about things I’ve never thought I’d say out loud.

His brown hair flops over his forehead, and these fucking feelings arise in my chest, and it isn’t good. It is NOT GOOD.

I’ve been a ghost for so long.”

“I want to kiss her. She’s sitting here next to me, telling me all these stories about her brother, and all I can think is how much I want to kiss her”

“I know if I do, her eyes will lose the light that’s started to come back into them and we’ll be back to where we were before, with lectures about inappropriate touching and bad timing.”

“I keep talking. I don’t understand why I can’t shut up, because for so long I could do nothing BUT shut up. Zach puts his hand on the couch, fingers splayed, and for a moment I think he’s going to grab my hand, but he doesn’t. And I talk and talk, and I think that maybe it’s for the best.

No, it’s definitely for the best.

But then my dumb hand decides to go rogue and do whatever it damn well pleases, and all of a sudden, it’s inching closer to his.

When our hands touch, his eyes widen in surprise.”

My heart’s beating so loud I’m pretty sure they can hear it on the other side of the planet”

I feel naked.

“I can either sit here with my hand flopping under hers like a limp fish, or I can take charge of my life for once”

Trecho de

The Lucky Ones

Liz Lawson

Este material pode estar protegido por copyright.

“I reach out, slow, put my other hand on her cheek. Her skin is soft. Our eyes meet, and for once I don’t need to know what’s going to happen, and I don’t want to hide.”

“And then he kisses me, and all the nerves in my body that I thought had died that day last year spark back to life.”

“It’s funny—I’ve been invisible to them since it became clear that Jordan had something that I don’t, that his brain worked in beautiful, mysterious ways, that it needed to be cultivated into something great. Maybe now I just feel it more.”

“Now, with him gone, it’s all collapsed. My parents and I don’t know how to relate to each other without him. I didn’t realize it until he was gone, but he was the glue holding us all together. Now we’re untethered, floating, occupying the same space but never touching”

“This is why I’ve been hiding under my covers for the past year. It’s not right that I can move on, go back to school, start to like a boy, play the trumpet, sing, laugh, live—and Jordan doesn’t get any of that.

He doesn’t get anything at all.”

“He sent me about a million texts last night, trying to get the DL on what’s happening with May, but I never wrote back. I want the memories to be mine and mine alone for a little while longer”

“In reality, things haven’t changed that much in the five days since Conor’s band played, but at the same time, it feels like everything has changed—most of all, the amount of times per minute my heart beats when I know May is nearby, followed closely by how much easier it is for me to get out of my car at school in the mornings.”

“I catch Zach’s eye and we exchange a smile that makes me feel all tingly and warm and sends the butterflies in my stomach into flight.

For the first time in forever, I dare to think that there might be a chance for me after all.”

“I nod at the remote a few cushions down and she reaches out with her foot and grabs it like a tiny, cute monkey”

“I realize I don’t want to run out the back. I don’t want to be the cause of yet another situation Zach is forced to deal with.

I pull myself together as best as I can. He’s watching me with such tenderness that I want to cry. No one but Lucy has cared about me like this since Jordan died”

“I do, Jay. I know all the faces of the victims….They visit me in my sleep. When I close my eyes, they’re all there.” She pauses. “But that girl survived. And there were reasons behind her survival that maybe even she doesn’t know.”

“A hard, mean pebble formed in my gut, and I growled at my mother, I’m going alone. All by myself. I’m allowed to have my own life—my own friends. I’m sick and tired of my loser brother always coming everywhere with me.

In response, her eyes widened, but they were trained on something behind me in the doorway. I whipped around and there he was, watching us. His eyes locked on mine and I tried to form words, to squeak out an apology, but before I could, he turned around and left the room, and then I left the house, and three days later, he was dead.”

“That entire time, we had no idea what was happening—the fire alarm kept blaring and everyone was huddled under desks, crying and watching the news on our phones, and I kept texting you and Jordan and getting no response. Don’t you get that what happened broke my heart?”

“I miss you, May. I’ve missed you for a year—missed you singing, missed you laughing, missed hearing your trumpet. Sometimes it feels like that fucking monster took both of my best friends that day.”

“Zach, why did he leave me alive?”

I take a deep breath, sensing that this is one of those moments I’ll remember forever, one of those moments that will stick in my brain, that will split my life in two. And then I ask:

“What do you want to me to do?”

“I switch myself to autopilot, like I did in the days after the shooting, after they carried me out of that tiny closet that had become my home, past abandoned bags holding buzzing cell phones. That was the worst thing: the cell phones I could hear buzzing as news of the shooting spread and parents started calling”

“The one person at that table who cared about what I said was Jordan. And now he’s gone. The person who I shared a womb with, who I grew into a human with, who only ever wanted to be my friend, is gone.

Forever.

Because of me.”

“I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want to breathe. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“I’ve spent my whole life making myself small. I spent my entire life thinking I didn’t deserve anything else, because I wasn’t smart enough; I wasn’t talented enough; I wasn’t enough.”

“I’m not going to let anyone tell me I can’t do my job.”

“I hope you can remember that people aren’t just the sum of their mistakes. The world isn’t black-and-white—the best thing you can do for yourself is to look at the spaces between those poles, to see that extremes aren’t useful to anyone.”

“I hope you’re careful with her. She has a lot of healing to do yet”

“He smiles and raises his hand in greeting, and it flashes through my head that he’s a leftover, just like me. Jordan’s gone. Marcus is gone. He’s the only one of their trio who’s still here. I smile back.”

“For the first time in a year, I think that maybe, one day, I’ll be able to get up there and sing with her again. Lucy and my mom are right—it’s time. It’s time for me to start living again—time for me to do something to remember Jordan. He always protected me; he was always there for me, even when I was pushing him away, and now it’s my turn to protect his memory, to do something to honor him in a real, significant way.”

“We’re not the same people we used to be; no one here is. We’ll never be those people again, but I think maybe, just maybe, there’s hope that some of us will become better people than we were before.”

“I just wish I could have said goodbye.”

“I silently recite the seven names I’ll never forget: Madison Lee. Marcus Neilson. Mr. Oppenheimer. Juliet Nichols. Britta Oliver. Michael Graves.

Jordan McGintee”