Absent (Katie Williams)

it. “I don’t know.”
    Usha combs out the strands of her tassel, watching him carefully.
    “Crazy, right?” he says.
    Usha shrugs. “Maybe not. Who knows what happens after life? I mean, I’m not ruling anything out.”
    “Not ruling anything out.” Lucas grins. “I like that.” He turns to go, but then stops and turns back. “I knew her, you know. Paige.”
    Usha tilts her head. “You did?”
    “Yeah. I liked her. She was rude and sweet and cranky and funny and . . . she was just . . . I don’t know . . . she was just the type ofgirl you’d want to know.” He frowns. “I still don’t understand what made her—”
    “Stop,” Usha says. “What you said before? Stop there. That was Paige.”
    He nods. “Yeah, you’re right. That was Paige.”
    With graduation over, the school is still but for the quiet sweep of the custodian’s push broom, the metal slide of a filing cabinet, the infrequent clack of a teacher’s heels. The school is ours again, us dead kids. We stand in front of the mural.
    Evan tilts his head skeptically. “I don’t feel anything.”
    “Be patient,” I tell him. “Be quiet.”
    I look down at the little dark moth in the corner. Usha painted the wall for Brooke and for me, but I painted that moth for Evan. I hope it’s enough.
    “Brooke?” I ask, leaning forward to see her on Evan’s other side.
    She shakes her head. “No. Nothing.”
    “What are we looking for?” Evan asks.
    “I don’t know.” I let my eyes wander from bird’s feather to dragonfly eye to plane propeller to dragon’s forked tongue. “It’s like how the death spots feel firm, this feels the opposite. It feels like . . . it feels like—I don’t know—like clouds dissolving into sunlight, like seeds blowing on the wind, like laughter catching between friends, like—”
    “Life,” Evan suggests. “At least how I remember it.”
    “Yeah, maybe like that. Maybe like life.”
    “Wait,” Brooke says, her voice a cracked whisper. “Listen.”
    Evan and I hush. At first, it’s a murmur, but as I listen, it grows into a chorus, into a crowd—not one voice but hundreds, thousands,all calling my name. It’s like everyone I ever knew is thinking about me, remembering the best thing they could. It’s like everyone I ever knew is calling my name, calling me to come meet them.
    I turn to Evan. “Do you hear it?”
    He says, “They’re saying my name.”
    “What do we do?” I ask.
    But it’s Brooke who answers, backing up a step, and then with one last look at me, running forward and throwing herself through the wall. Except she doesn’t go through it, and she doesn’t hit it. For a moment, it’s as if she’s become a part of the mural, a vivid collection of colors and shapes, but also a girl. Then she’s gone.
    “A life spot,” Evan breathes.
    “Are you scared?” I say. “I’m scared.”
    Evan nods. “But I’m ready. Are you?”
    I take a last look at the empty hallway. I turn to Evan. “Together?”
    We step forward.