Upstander by James Preller (free ereaders .TXT) 📕

hair from his eyes and wiped the side of his face with a closed fist. “I don’t know, Mary. She’s home, I guess, doing what she does.”

“Home?”

“Her apartment,” Griff clarified. “My father refuses to speak to her. Doesn’t want me to, either. He says it’s tough love. He says … all sorts of things. But I don’t hear much love.”

“Have you tried to contact her?” Mary asked. “Secretly?”

Griff looked to the gray, cloudless sky, the leafless trees, the grass that had lost its deep green. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“She almost died,” Mary said.

Griff bent to pick up a stray ketchup packet, crumpled it in his fist. “I know,” he said so softly that Mary almost didn’t catch the words.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Mary stepped forward, but caught herself. She wanted to console him, embrace him, offer him strength, but it wasn’t her place to do that for him. She held back and watched.

“What am I supposed to do?” he said, wheeling around. “You want me to cry, Mary? Is that it? You ask if I’m okay? Yeah, sure, I’m fantastic. Nothing bothers me. That’s her problem, right? I’ll be fine.”

“Griff,” Mary said. “My brother was there, you know. He says he loves her.”

Griff picked up a thick fallen branch. He weighed the heft of it in his hands like a ballplayer. It looked like a weapon in his hands, and for a moment Mary wasn’t sure what he intended to do with it. With a fluid motion, Griff violently slammed it against the nearest tree truck. Crack, it snapped in two, the broken half flying into the thicket.

Griff dropped the stick, bent over with his hands on his thighs, shuddering in the echo of that blow.

Mary cast her eyes around. What else could she do? They had gotten most of the litter. “Jonny’s in rehab now. Did you know that?”

Griff glanced up, shook his head. “I don’t know a lot of things, Mary,” he said. “So many things. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“You could call her. Send a card. Something.”

Griff shook his head again. “It’s not like that. You wouldn’t understand. My father says she’s hopeless anyway.”

“Don’t listen to that,” Mary said. “You have to hope, Griff. Things can change. She can change.”

Griff looked at her with doubtful eyes.

“And you can change, too, Griff,” Mary said, the words barely getting past her constricted throat and lips.

Griff frowned, turned his back to her. Maybe he couldn’t look her in the eyes. It was getting late. Mary had planned to watch the modified basketball game. Be there for Eric. She checked her phone. “We should go.”

Griffin shrugged and sank down at the base of the tree. He looked tired and defeated. “You go, I’m gonna stay.”

“You sure?”

Griffin laughed, a short choking sound. “Sure, I’m sure,” he said. He picked up a stone and flicked it away.

Eye. Sea. You.

“If you need anything,” Mary offered, “I’ll be around. Just to talk or whatever. Okay?”

He didn’t answer.

“I hope she, you know, gets the help she needs,” Mary said, and turned to walk away.

After a downcast minute, Mary lifted her chin and quickened her pace. She walked faster, her stride longer, more purposeful. She checked her phone again, 4:13. The game was supposed to start soon. Eric said he probably wasn’t going to start. It didn’t matter to Mary. She wanted to be there in the stands. He deserved it, and so did she. A reason to stand and cheer.

Mary broke into a run and never looked back.

Author’s Note

On school visits, and in fan mail, I’ve repeatedly told readers that no, thanks very much for asking, but I had zero intention of writing a sequel to Bystander.

I felt that the book was complete and self-contained. There were hints and suggestions for what might happen after the last page; I was content to leave those imaginings up to each individual reader, where they belong.

So what changed?

It was a subtle shift. I’d been stuck in one way of thinking: that a sequel would be about what happens next. Then it dawned on me that I could tell Mary’s story—a minor but crucial character in Bystander. In fact, I could tell much of Mary’s story that occurred before the events that took place in the previous book. Here I’d catch up to that time line, overlap slightly, and take at least one step beyond.

That is: prequel and sequel.

And a story that stands alone.

I discovered an important distinction: not a longer story, but a larger one. The canvas got bigger.

Everyone has stories. Most of us have no idea what others are going through. We move through our lives, running into people all the time, and we just don’t know what is really happening behind closed doors. So that’s where it started for me. I asked myself, What’s been going on in Mary’s life?

My editor, Liz Szabla, was enormously helpful during a couple of long conversations that explored the possibilities. It hit us that Mary’s brother had a substance use disorder, though I’m sure I would not have known to use that specific language at the time. I had a lot to learn.

Fortunately, there’s a wealth of informative, raw, deeply personal literature on the subject. I should mention, in particular, six books that were especially enlightening: If You Love Me by Maureen Cavanagh; Beautiful Boy by David Sheff; Saving Jake by D’Anne Burwell; Addict in the Family by Beverly Conyers; The Joey Song by Sandra Swenson; and Beyond Addiction by Jeffrey Foote, PhD, Carrie Wilkens, PhD, and Nicole Kosanke, PhD, with Stephanie Higgs.

It was painful reading at times. I didn’t write for months. Just took notes and thought and thought. The stories I encountered were remarkably inspirational, ultimately leaving me with a feeling of awe and respect. My empathy for “the addict” deepened, and the more I learned, the more I felt a sense of clarity about what I needed to say about this hidden disease that is all too frequently associated with blame