Columns of red and white balloons are pillared along the walls, and aluminum stars hang from the ceiling as I enter the hallway. Things are returning to normal at school again. People are wearing bright colored T-shirts, playing music in the bathrooms, and throwing paper balls across the lockers. Any lingering sentiments of Sam’s death have been replaced with school spirit. There used to be a picture of him on the wall by the bulletin board. I don’t know if it fell down, or if someone removed it, but it’s gone now. There’s a stack of student newspapers in each class, and for the first time in weeks, Sam isn’t mentioned. It’s like everyone has moved on from him. Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me. I see pep rallies, soccer games, and graduation are what’s trending.
My French test goes better than I expected. I spent all night studying for it, so I’m glad it paid off. I surprise myself on the oral portion of the test. According to Madame Lia, I’ve always been a natural at pronunciation. In English, Mr. Gill is out sick for the day (an answered prayer), so our substitute, a squat gray-haired man who squints when someone asks a question, tells us to read Animal Farm silently to ourselves. I work on my essay instead because I left my copy of the book at home. I love the topic I chose. How Octavia E. Butler’s sci-fi novels are better at teaching history because of their emotional appeal to the readers. It’s about the power of storytelling that humans have been primed for since the Stone Age when they carved pictures on cave walls. I draft three pages before the bell rings. I’ve been much more focused this week. I think it’s the crystal. I make sure to carry it with me for peace and luck.
“How did your test go?” Jay asks me at lunch.
“Pretty good, I think. Did you finish your group project?”
“My group has two lacrosse players…” he says, ripping a sandwich in half. “So no.”
“It could be worse.”
“How?”
“Three lacrosse players.”
We laugh as Jay hands me half the sandwich. A second later, Oliver shows up. He places his tray on the table, and squeezes a chair right next to me, forcing Jay to move over.
“Love the earth shirt, Jay,” Oliver says, stealing one of his fries.
Jay is wearing one of the shirts he designed for his environmental club, the one of a sick globe with a thermometer sticking out of its mouth. “Thanks. I made it myself.”
“And how come I never got one?”
“Well, if you actually came to our meetings, you would have.”
“I came to the first one,” Oliver reminds him, then whispers to the rest of us, “and it was a long one.”
Jay gives him a look. “You know I can hear you.”
“What—we didn’t say anything,” Oliver says, then winks at me and the others.
“Enough, guys—” Rachel interrupts them, and rises from her chair. “There’s a club emergency. The form is due tomorrow, and we still need five more signatures.”
“Can’t you just, you know, make them up?” Oliver suggests.
Rachel’s eyes widen with hope. “Will that work?” she whispers.
“No,” I say.
We all glance at each other, trying to think of ideas that won’t get us into trouble.
“Do you really need a school club to host a movie?” Yuki asks. “We can always get together informally.”
“No, but if we get approval, the school gives us a hundred-dollar budget for snacks,” Rachel explains.
Oliver smacks the table. “Then we need these signatures!” he says, and everyone laughs.
“Since you’re popular, Oliver, do you think you can help us?” Rachel asks, handing him the form again.
“On the condition I get final say on what we eat.”
“Deal.”
Oliver holds up his hand. They high-five each other.
“Hey, it’s Mika—” Jay points behind me.
I look up and see her walking this way. She hasn’t made an appearance at lunch in a while. “Mika!” I call her name but she hurries pasts us without looking at me, and disappears through hallway doors.
Yuki frowns. “Is she okay?”
“She doesn’t look too good,” Oliver notes. He turns to me. “Have you spoken to her lately?”
“I’ve tried to … But she keeps avoiding me.”
“Is she mad at you?”
“I guess so.” I look down at my tray, feeling guilty for letting things get this way. “I missed the vigil after I promised her I’d go. I missed a lot of things. So she doesn’t think much of me right now.”
“I ran into her in the restroom yesterday,” Rachel says. “She was crying.”
Oliver leans back in his chair. “That’s rough. I wish there was something we could do.”
“Me, too,” I say.
The table goes quiet for a while. No one really touches their food. Especially me. I can’t seem to eat at all. How can I after promising Sam I’d make sure Mika’s okay? I could have reached out to her more. It’s like I’m failing him. Failing the three of us. After all, it’s my fault she isn’t talking to me. I wish I could just tell her about Sam. Maybe it would fix everything, and we would understand each other again.
After a long silence, Rachel looks up at us. “I have an idea. We should invite her to release the lanterns with us. It might help her, too.”
I look at her. “Lanterns?”
“It’s the idea we came up with,” Yuki says, nodding. “To honor Sam, we’re going to release lanterns for him. They’re called memory lanterns. It lets you whisper something to a person you lost, and the lantern will carry the message to them in the sky.”