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Introduction

Introduction

I am writing this with a headache, but I always have a headache so that hardly matters. But just remember that as you read this, the author’s head is throbbing with an undying ache. Just a cheery thought to start the story.

My name is Annabel Marshall. Most people call me Abe. That’s a story for another time. This is the story of four years of my life, the last four years actually. At least if the rest of my plans go accordingly they will be. I’ve always wanted to write a book, so I guess this will be my book. My last words. My final story. Dramatic, isn’t it? One last thing before I get into it, whoever finds me and this book, I ask that you pass it along. Every person whose name is in this book needs to read it. And so if you’re reading this book, just wait for your name to show up. I promise it will.

 Anyway, On March 25th, I was left crumpled against a locker, with my nose bleeding and my eye blackened. And one thought filled my head. A memory actually.

“Mom?” I said. My mom looked up from the computer screen. Late afternoon sun filtered through the windows in our home office and the metal filing cabinet I was sitting on dug into my legs.

“I’m not a feminist. I can do any job, I can vote. I don’t need to be,” I said. My mom sighed and nodded her head.

“Yeah, I guess that’s a way to see it,” she replied.

As that scene played through my head I wanted to scream, and cry, and laugh. Four years, three boys, two best friends, and one run in with the school officials later: here I was, beat up and lying in a high school hallway.

I’ve thought a lot about how to tell this story. By year? By boy? I guess it depends on how you measure life. By years or by people? I measure by love and hate. Which, by the way, are the strongest emotions anyone can feel.