Some Quiet Place

doorway with the rest of the crowd, no doubt eager to find her friends and start the planning for my demise. Joshua lingers at his desk, waiting for me. I walk past him and approach Mrs. Farmer.
    “Here.” My palm slaps against the wood of the teacher’s desk as I set down two pieces of paper stapled together. “My part of the project you assigned.” At Mrs. Farmer’s blank stare, I add, “The portfolio?”
    “Oh!” Comprehension dawns in the teacher’s face. Compassion appears beside her—she’s a tall Emotion with a solemn light in her gray eyes. Mrs. Farmer reaches out to pat my hand but I move it out of the way. Hers flutters back to her lap awkwardly. “Joshua did well enough for the two of you,” she says, glancing at him. “You didn’t have to do this extra work. I understand the circumstances.”
    “That’s nice of you, but I don’t want special treatment,” I counter. “Please look this over and give me the grade you think the work deserves.”
    She knows my meaning: I don’t want to be graded on Maggie’s death. Efficiency. That should be the focus. After a moment I turn my back on Mrs. Farmer and Compassion, leaving the room.
    “When did you finish it?” Joshua asks me in the hall. His locker is in the opposite direction of mine but he walks with me anyway. We pass Susie Yank and she waves at me, timid. I don’t miss how her glance lingers on Joshua, and her expression is almost worshipful. I return her wave but don’t stop.
    “I finished it this morning,” I tell Joshua finally. “After we got back.”
    “Can I read it?”
    I walk faster.
    “Hey.” He touches my arm, stopping me. It seems like he’s always content to have our conversations in the middle of the hall. I pull my arm away, and he blushes. The sight of that twists something in my middle.
    I rake my wild hair back; there was no time to brush it this morning between the poem and my chores. “I’m sorry.” I stare up at him. “I’m not … good at this.”
    “Get out of the way!” One of Sophia’s friends shoulders past. She glances at me with a strange expression before hurrying on.
    Joshua ignores her. “Talk to me,” he orders.
    Now I give all my attention to the lockers to our right, studying the dents in the metal as if they hold some deep meaning for me. “I don’t think that this is smart,” I tell those dents. “You’re going to get hurt. The people in my life have always been disappointed in me sooner or later.”
    “Huh.” He takes my elbow to guide me out of the wave of kids rushing to their classes. I’m going to be late yet again. Joshua snaps his fingers in front of my face, forcing me to look at him. “I don’t think you’re really worried about me,” he says bluntly. I blink.
    “What do you—”
    “You’re scared.”
    That’s not true; Fear is nowhere around. My hair is falling into my face. Ironic, since Joshua’s is finally smoothed out of the way. “I don’t have time for this,” I say. I move past Joshua. He lets me go, his irritation obvious.
    “If we don’t take any risks, then we won’t find the things worth living for,” the boy calls after me.
    “Go to class, Joshua,” I toss over my shoulder. I think of the poem I’ll never show him, never show anyone else but Mrs. Farmer.
    There are different kinds of hiding.
    I hide, I protect, I pretend.
I give no promises or look to tomorrow.
There is only this, only me.
A shadow and a whisper.
I hide, I protect, I pretend.
Everyone else.
No one else.
Impossibility and useless efforts.
Reasons?
I don’t know.
    I just know this.
    During my lunch hour—among the aging stories and forgotten history of the library—I finally find the newspaper article I’ve been looking for. This time it doesn’t disappear, but all my efforts toward finding it have been in vain; there’s nothing more to know here than in what Sarah has already told me.
    Girl Survives Car Accident
    Yesterday, Elizabeth Caldwell, four years old, wandered out to the highway by herself. The driver of an oncoming car didn’t see the little girl until it was too late. When questioned, he had little recollection of what had happened. An ambulance was immediately called, and paramedics say Elizabeth was conscious and lucid on the scene. She escaped with nothing but a few scrapes and bruises. Doctors say it’s a miracle. She’s already been discharged.
    I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a point to finding the answers about my past.