Some Quiet Place

you two ever went through, every experience you ever had.” Somehow he thinks of the exact day I’d been thinking of earlier and uses it against me. “Remember all the times she bought you ice cream because you had no money? Do you remember when Maggie dragged you to the homecoming game, and after everyone left you two sat in the middle of the field and looked at the stars? She told you everything. You told her nothing. She sensed that, but she didn’t care. She always thought you would open up to her one day—”
    “Stop.”
    I hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but my voice slices through the still air. Pastor Mike does stop, staring at me expectantly. Someone coughs in the crowd. I can feel Tim stiffening. John—Maggie’s dad—turns around to look at me, and as his gaze settles on my face, it softens. It’s that expression that makes me realize something. Something bizarre; it doesn’t make sense.
    I’m crying.
    Fear leans down, kissing my neck with his cool lips. He’s accomplished what he came to do. “You will feel. I’m going to make sure of it,” he promises. He leaves me there, sending a chilly breeze over the funeral. Some shiver.
    “Did you have something to say?” Pastor Mike prompts, eyebrows raised. It’s strange—his eyebrows are gray and his hair is black. Obviously dyed.
    There are so many things I could say at this moment. So many words, meanings, memories, opportunities to make up for areas I’ve disappointed.
    I just shake my head, backing away from the casket. I wipe away the strange tears with the back of my dark sleeve. “No, nothing to say. Sorry,” I mumble.
    The pastor eyes me, then seems to mentally shrug. “Everyone loved her and will truly miss her,” he finishes, snapping the Bible shut with a thump .
    I sit in the barn loft with a pad of paper and a pen. The bale of hay pokes at my bottom and legs, but I hardly notice. Mora is restless below; she snaps at another cow. I tap, tap, tap my way into nothing. No rhymes come to mind, not even free verse. Everything I think is numb and shallow … there’s just no inspiration to be found inside of me, and there lies the problem.
    Something nesting in the ceiling beams flutters, and the faint tang of perspiration dots the air. Terror. A scream sounds through the loft a second later.
    I lift my head from the palm of my hand, calling out, “Fear?”
    He doesn’t answer, but I know he’s nearby. He’s avoiding me and my questions about the night of Sophia’s party, but at the same time he wants to be near. “You can’t have it both ways,” I say distractedly, pursing my lips in contemplation. Hiding. Pretending. Protecting oneself. I just have to start—that’s the first step.
    There are different kinds of hiding.
    My handwriting is neat on the page. Fear remains uncharacteristically hushed, and I know he doesn’t plan to come to me tonight. Which means not only is he avoiding me, but he knows something he desperately refuses to tell me. Something arrived at the party that night, something that sent all the Emotions and Elements running. What could it possibly be? It doesn’t matter—the truth will probably come out one way or another, and if not, I’m no worse for wear.
    I bring my knees up to my chest, becoming a ball. The paper rustles and I smooth it out, my fingers tracing the edges. There are different kinds of hiding. I hide, I protect, I pretend. I will not go down in history for my poetry, but my promise to Joshua will be fulfilled; I will finish what I’ve started.
    Will you? my little voice taunts.
    I remember Sarah’s pain as she asked me if I knew where her daughter was. Maggie letting her optimism crumble toward the end, lying there in that bed. Fear’s impossible infatuation. Joshua’s innocence.
    I just realized that there are so many things I don’t know about the kids I see every day. How many of them have secrets they keep from the rest of the world? How many of them wear masks everywhere they go? We’re anything but typical.
    Thinking about his words makes me think about Joshua himself. He, too, has been avoiding me. He doesn’t look at me in class. He passes me in the hall without a greeting of any kind. He’s guarded after what he saw at Sophia’s party, after what I said to him on the steps. Just another person in Edson who knows what I am: something strange and unnatural. A freak.
    I made a mistake, saving him and Susie that night. If I know anything about the world, things