That Was Only The Rehearsal

1

June 13, 2019

It was 9:06 when I first heard the sirens wailing. Like most people, I had snuggled up under my covers, clad in bunny pajamas, getting ready to pretend to be asleep for the next few hours. My hand clutched my phone as I began the grueling task of deciding what to watch on YouTube. Haley! Downstairs! my mother’s commanding voice called from, obviously, downstairs.

Coming! I shrieked in response. I was annoyed that she had roused me from my bed just as I was beginning to get comfortable. If what she needs to tell me is so important, I thought, then why doesn’t she just come to me? Nevertheless, I tied up my hair as I bounced down the steps.

Cops. Everywhere. Cops sitting around the wooden table where my mom, dad, and I cracked jokes nearly every morning at breakfast. The counter, the fridge, everywhere: covered in unwelcome men with squawking walkie-talkies. I hated that they had already seemed to infiltrate my life. Being treated like a stranger in my own house was bad, but even worse was the look on my mother’s face. Usually, my mother was full of life. Faith Hansen had an easy happiness that seemed to spread to anyone in her proximity. Her playful blonde bob matched her sparkling blue eyes. I loved how much I looked like her, how similar people thought we were. But she looked different now. New lines that I had never noticed before marked her face; her already pale complexion had turned ghostly white. What are they doing here? I questioned. My voice cracked with anxiety.

Honey, I think you need to sit down for this, my mother replied as tears started to brim around her thick eyelashes. Complying with her request, I lowered myself into the chair in the corner next to the cabinet. If I wasn’t already, I was starting to worry now. The police— my mother started before sobs began to rack her thin frame.

A nearby officer put his hand on my mother’s shoulder and started where she had left off. He was tall and clean-shaven and, despite his professional air, seemed remorseful. We have taken your father into custody, he said.

For what? I stammered. I—I don’t understand. The officer’s eyes turned to the ground. All was silent for a few moments until I mustered the strength to speak again. Gathering all the energy I had left, I acknowledged the elephant in the room. Why? I asked. It was a simple question with a simple answer that turned out to be not so simple.

The officer raised his head and brought his sad eyes to mine. For the murder of Hannah Schulz.

…

Okay, you’re probably thinking: Who the heck is Hannah Schulz? Why did my father, Dan Hansen, kill her? She was ordinary, with medium-length, glossy brown hair and a myriad of freckles that wouldn’t make you look twice, but she was so much more than ordinary to me. We’d grown up together and we were thick as thieves, as close as sisters. She wasn’t the easiest to love, I’ll admit. Hannah was the type of person who would tell you the truth no matter how much it hurt because she knew it was what you needed to hear—even when you didn’t want to. But Hannah always knew the right thing to do: how to make you feel better, and how to make you laugh, smile, and cry.

I can tell you how he did it, but the why is a bit more blurry. I won’t get into the details because frankly, I don’t want to remember it, let alone talk about it. But I think it’s important to tell you that on that fateful night, Dan Hansen wrote For Haley in Hannah’s blood.

After June 13th, nobody in the town of Wilake would look at me or my mother the same way. I wasn’t just Haley Hansen anymore. I was Haley Hansen, daughter of Dan Hansen, murderer. It was like I had permanently been stained by my own blood, and you can’t change blood.

Some people, namely Hannah’s parents, couldn’t look at us at all. Their scorn was the most painful of all to me. I wanted Hannah’s mother to hug me and tell me it was all right, and for Hannah’s father to tell me it wasn’t my fault. But they didn’t, because they couldn’t. Perhaps it was my fault.

That was why we moved to Fort Vepar: to escape the watchful eyes of judgment. We sold the house and my mother packed her things—furniture, dishes, bits and pieces that reminded her of a good life. Me? I only packed a duffel bag full of clothes and a picture of Hannah.

I didn’t want to remember Wilake at all. I wanted to wake up a new human being with no past, nothing but a here and now. But that’s not really how life works. I could try to be new, but the old me was still there, full of nightmares and memories. When people in Fort Vepar ask me about my father, I say he’s out of the picture.

But he’s not and never will be.

2

November 8, 2019

The speaker above me let out an electronic squeal, jarring me awake. I looked around the classroom to see if anyone had noticed me doze off. They hadn’t. All attention was turned to the rusty box on the wall rather than our elderly English teacher, much to his dismay.

Eventually it spoke, but not before making some rather obnoxious clangs and screeches. All students are to report to the auditorium for a mandatory assembly in ten minutes.

With a beep, it stopped.

That’s weird, I thought. We rarely had assemblies or gathered in the auditorium. But no matter. We were happy enough to get an excuse to leave English class. Before our teacher could protest, we were out the door and making our way to the auditorium.

While everyone else paired up or walked to the auditorium in groups, I walked alone. I hadn’t made an effort to get to know my new classmates that well. I only really had one friend and a few acquaintances who only knew my first name. I doubt that half of the class had noticed that I had transferred this year.

But that was A-okay because I had Noah. He was pretty much the only thing keeping me sane since we had moved to Fort Vepar. While my other classmates ignored me, he had actively made an effort to get to know me.

I was hesitant at first—scared to make new friends. Some part of me felt like it would be a betrayal of Hannah’s memory. Nevertheless, I succumbed to his charm. Haley! I heard from behind me. Speak of the devil.

Noah broke into a slow jog to catch up with me; he was followed by his friend Jonas.

It wasn’t a surprise that Noah had other friends, and it was actually quite surprising that he didn’t have more. He could make anyone smile, and he could crack jokes without a moment’s hesitation. Noah always seemed to know the right thing to say and when to say it.

He was tall and attractive, but not the kind of attractive that made a big deal about itself. He was tanned, with bright brown eyes and dark hair that fell just above his chin. Jonas wasn’t too different from Noah, except his complexion was as pale as snow, kind of like a pale shadow of Noah. Despite the similarities, we weren’t that close.

Naturally, as the shadow, he was the more soft-spoken of the two. He was quiet where Noah was loud, seemingly feeling perfectly comfortable with fading into the background. Perhaps this was why we had only talked a handful of times. He didn’t seem all that interested in me. It was either that or Jonas hated people, but Noah brought out the best in him, as he did with everyone.

Our trio made the trek through the dimly lit hallway up to the auditorium. In a lot of ways, Fort Vepar High School wasn’t too different from my old one. The same navy metal lockers lined the halls surrounding the tan linoleum floors, lit by square overhead lights. All in all, it conformed with a very popular look in America’s schools. A dimly lit path to a brighter future …

Noah was the first to break the silence. What do you think the assembly’s about?

Probably your blatant disregard for the dress code, I teased. Noah snorted. Our principal, Mrs. Donahue, had been trying to get Noah lifetime detention since the beginning of the year for chronically violating the dress code. But his sweatpants and hoodies were always just clean enough and not quite saggy enough to cross the line, and since his teachers loved him, no one was going out of their way to ding him for a violation.

Okay, but like, seriously, Noah reiterated.

I shrugged.

Beats me, said Jonas, although he seemed uneasy.

Whatever it is can’t be that bad, I said. The only slightly scandalous thing that’s happened since I got here is when Suzie Morgan snuck her ferret into school for two hours.

So you’re proposing that this is a threat-level ferret assembly? joked Noah.

Maybe two. He snickered as we entered the auditorium, another shoutout to American high school architecture.

Calling it an auditorium was a bit generous. In reality, it was what used to be the gym before the school was remodeled. It had tall brick walls and a laminated wooden floor, basketball court lines included. At one end of the room was a stage with a microphone in the center, and the rest of the room was filled with fold-out chairs.

Right away, it was easy to tell that this assembly was about something more serious than a ferret (or two). A few teachers stood on the stage and chattered among themselves nervously, occasionally stealing glances at the students. Mrs. Donahue looked the most nervous of them all. Her eyes appeared more sunken and her lips tighter than usual.

The teachers’ anxiety had already caused some tension among the students. They too had started to hypothesize the meaning of our gathering. I couldn’t make out any full sentences, but I could hear a few snippets of their conversations. The general gist of it was vandalism, anti-drugs assembly, that one kid who vapes in the bathroom getting expelled …

The only ones that seemed completely unaffected by the drama were the group that Noah sometimes jokingly called the Heathers, like the group of popular girls in the musical. Of course, they weren’t really Heathers, they were Rebecca Martinez, Sarah Rhodes, and Allison Vos.

Rebecca was a lot quieter and less athletic than the other two girls, which apparently made her less desirable. I didn’t understand why, though. She could definitely be a model, with brown skin and dark brown hair that complemented each other perfectly. I’d always liked her. I thought that we could be friends if either of us was willing to branch out a bit more.

Then there was Sarah. I had nothing personal against her, I just hated her. She was utterly unoriginal and full of herself. Just like Rebecca, she could have been a model. Sarah had glossy black hair that fell halfway down her back, light olive skin, and brown eyes. She tried to copy Allison’s every mannerism, from the way she talked to the way she dressed.

I shouldn’t be so critical, I thought. Who am I to judge? My life is a hot mess.

That left Allison. She was built like a Barbie doll: tall and slim, with blue eyes and blonde hair. Despite her good looks, her personality was her standout feature. She was popular but not condescending, adored but not idolized. That was what I admired about her—how she could be so aware of who she was but not use it against others.

What was surprising to me was that Allison wasn’t among their ranks today. Without her there, Rebecca and Sarah seemed almost bored with each other, like Allison was the spark making them animated.

It reminded me of Noah, Jonas, and me. Without Noah, we would never have been friends, but if I had to choose a seat in class, it might as well be next to Jonas.

After five or so minutes of standing around, we eventually settled in our seats. Mrs. Donahue made her way to the microphone in the center of the stage, although her usual confident saunter was noticeably missing. She tapped the microphone a few times, sending an electronic thump through the crowd. She cleared her throat. I’m sure it has come to your attention that we are not gathered here today in regular circumstances, she began. An hour ago, we received the very difficult news that— Mrs. Donahue’s voice cracked with emotion and a wave of uncertainty. Nevertheless, she composed herself and continued. We have received the very difficult news that junior Allison Vos has passed away unexpectedly this morning.

A few muffled cries broke out, but most people were stunned out of any reaction. Mrs. Donahue put her speech on pause to let the initial shock sink in. Whether you knew Allison personally or not, you knew her. None of us had ever imagined this happening.

I can’t breathe.

As a community, we are saddened by this tragedy, she said. We will do everything in our power to accommodate any emotions you may be feeling right now. The counseling department will be open to students at all hours. We are also working on setting up a helpline in case anyone needs it.

If Mrs. Donahue was still talking, I didn’t hear it. The noise around me was completely drowned out.

It can’t be true.

Poor Rebecca was starting to whimper. Tears plastered her dark hair to her cheeks, blending with running mascara. Sarah walked her out of the room, emotionless—which struck me as odd.

It was Sarah who had seemed closer to Allison. Rebecca had always seemed more like the third wheel in their friendship. But as I had learned, appearances can be deceiving.

Yet she seemed so healthy …

Once Rebecca had been escorted out of the auditorium, Mrs. Donahue continued to address us. We would like to hold a memorial service for Allison this upcoming Sunday to celebrate her life. She looked up. I understand that it may be difficult to process all of this, so I am giving you the rest of the day off. Check your email these next few days for any important updates.

Then it hit me. How did she die?

3

In the midst of the silence, I got up and bolted out of the auditorium. I could feel hundreds of eyes on me, but I didn’t care—I couldn’t think. I just wanted to get away.

No, no, no, no, no. What a fool I was making out of myself; I barely knew her. I can’t breathe. Everything was becoming cold again like the night Hannah died. Something seemed off about Allison dying. She was in peak health and seemed perfectly happy, I thought. I needed to clear my head. School was out for the day anyways. I ran and ran until I reached the forest-green doors between the school and the outside world, but I didn’t stop there. My final destination was over the chain-link fence protecting the woods from the school, a popular destination for me when I wanted to avoid going home … which was often, nowadays. If you walked thirty or so feet away from the fence, you would find a shallow stream flowing underneath a canopy of trees. One tree lay lifeless on the bank of the stream, providing seating for anyone who dared venture into the woods. But that wasn’t the best part about it. An impossibly large rock looked down on all of this. It stood about six feet off the ground. I promptly climbed it. It was covered in pretty vulgar graffiti.

That was what stood out to me. There were probably hundreds of places that looked exactly like this around the world, but the graffiti claimed that this was mine. But maybe not only mine. Noah and Jonas came bounding through the trees, interrupting my much-needed peace and quiet. Haley, are you okay? asked Noah.

Yeah, fine. I guess, I replied.

I don’t know, you seemed pretty upset back there. Is there something you need to talk about?

Hannah, I thought. I need to talk about Hannah. But instead, I just shook my head no. This didn’t seem to satisfy Noah. He frowned and looked intently at me, as if he was trying to break down a door and walk into my mind. Jonas, for his part, just stared at me with a sad look. I knew that had our roles been reversed, I would have felt the same need to understand. But I couldn’t help thinking that if they knew about Hannah, they would have second thoughts about our friendship. Though truth be told, I’m not sure Jonas thought of us as friends at all.

The two boys began climbing the Rock to join me, but Noah suddenly stopped. His face went blank. I completely forgot! He frowned. I promised Rebecca that I’d help her study for physics.

Jonas groaned. Do you think physics is Rebecca’s biggest concern right now?