Quietly, I slip the note into my bag and sling the strap over my shoulder. I stand, and my legs feel wobbly as though they have never felt pressure, never had the need to move. I grasp the cool door handle, push, and squint as the energy and chaos of the hallway full of students overwhelms me.
Kids push their way past me, for I am simply a roadblock in their way to get to class on time. I am tossed aside by so many, and I can almost feel the tears coming again.
I begin to walk, and am practically carried by the rush of students. And just then, I catch a glimpse of sleek, dark brown hair, bright green eyes, and a blue backpack. “Piper!” I call, so grateful to see a friendly image, a person I can speak of my troubles to without feeling embarrassed.
The stream of kids thins out, and soon Piper and I are right next to each other. She’s flanked by two others, a dark-eyed Asian girl and a boy with blond hair. “Hey, Piper, what’s up? Look, I’m sorry about snapping at you…“
“Oh, hi Josie,” says Piper quickly, and then passes right past me, placing all of her attention on the jabbering Asian girl. As she heads down the hall, she brushes my arm without noticing.
My eyes are dry, but anguish and horror builds inside of me, and it takes every ounce of energy my exhausted body has left to maintain a straight face. What have I done?

Mamá smiles at me, a bright, warm smile that does not match my dreary frown as I hurry through the front door of our home and wipe my feet on the muddy blue mat. “Hi, Josephina,” she says, wrapping a friendly arm around my shoulders. “How was school?”
Should I tell her? That I spent my lunch crying in Ms. Romano’s office? That Piper is ignoring me? That I utterly failed a major math test?
“It was fine,” I say.
Mamá nods as she removes her dark coat. “Oh my god, I had such a stressful day at work today! Did you know that my boss wants me to finish editing that adult novel by Friday?” She shakes her head. “Life is hard.”
I flinch at the awfulness of this commonly used phrase. Life is hard. What an understatement to my current situation.
Mamá obviously does not see this as she yells with stunning volume, “Benny! Come downstairs and say hello to your sister!”
I hear a grunt of “Hello,” from upstairs in Benny’s deep, emotionless monotone.
Mamá rolls her eyes. “BENNY GARCIA!”
Benny clops down the stairs, clad in sweats and a T-shirt. “Sup, Josie?”
“Hi, Benny,” I say miserably.
Benny strolls into the kitchen, and I hear the pantry and fridge doors slamming randomly. “Mom, we don’t have any more bean dip.”
I toss my bag down onto the wooden floor. It lands with a nauseating clunk as I begin to go upstairs towards my room.
Mamá grabs my arm, stopping me in my tracks. Her pretty features are creased with worry. This is not an uncommon look for her, for being a single mother with a teenage boy and preteen girl has its difficulties. “Josephina, are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk to me about?”
I tug my arm away from her. “I like to be called Josie, Mamá.”
Mamá stares me down with those intimidating eyes. “And I like for my children to tell me the truth. I’m going to ask you one more time. What’s the matter? Are you having school problems?”

I don’t move, but merely contemplate the carpeting on the stairs. It is crimson red, with golden threads forging their way through to make a river-like pattern. Only a poet would be able to describe it perfectly, with no doubts left in the person listening about how absolutely fantastic the colors are.

Mama gently taps my shoulder. “Josephina Garcia! Answer me.”

I whirl around to face her, my dark, knotted, unattractively matted hair slapping my face. “You should know exactly what’s going on, Mamá! Louie is gone, and he was my best friend.” I can feel tears of anger and grief trickling down my cheeks, but that doesn’t stop the explosion that is me. “You and Benny are acting like he was never here! And Piper is ignoring me, and I failed a math test, and-“

Mamá sighs, stopping me in my tracks. “Oh, honey, I-“

“-and I just feel so alone. No one seems to care,” I finish.

Mamá sits down on the steps and gestures for me to copy her example. I do, one, because I’m emotionally exhausted, and two, no one in their right mind disobeys Sophie Garcia.

Guilt is flooding through me when I see Mamá’s quickly turned melancholy face. Guilt because somewhere deep down inside of me, I know that I was wrong to take out my misery on her. Guilt because in that dark place, I know that she is just as miserable about Louie’s death.

Mamá takes a deep breath, exhales. “Josephina- sorry, Josie- you know, Louie was very special to me, too.”

I nod. I feel like I have just exploded, and an unusual feeling of calm spreads over me.

Mamá continued. “And I know how special he was to you, ever since you were a little girl. I was trying to make it seem like I didn’t notice because I thought it might be easier for you if there wasn’t ‘Louie this’ and ‘Louie that’ constantly pouring from my mouth.

“I told Benny to do the same thing, but I’m not exactly sure if he actually heard me. It probably just went in one ear and out the other.”

A giggle escapes me, disrupting the serene matureness that I hope was my expression before then.

Mamá smiles. “Josie, you can’t let this tragedy destroy your life. I won’t stand for it.”

I exhale. “Yeah, I guess. But there are some other things, too…”

And I spill. I tell her about my failed math test, how Piper is not exactly acknowledging me.

Mamá’s eyebrows crease with frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I was preoccupied,” I say, casting my eyes down.

Mamá gives me a long hug, then stands and brushes off her blazer. “If you ever need someone to talk to about Louie, I’m here. But right now, I know that any daughter of mine could sort through her problems. It’s the Garcia family talent.”

I stand, too. That simple motion is an example of confidence, of determination, of moving on, I realize. Because life is moving on, and how are we supposed to move without getting up from where we are?

Piper is waiting for me at the bus stop like usual, her brown hair flapping wildly in the wind. Her eyes, bright and alert, notice me immediately.

I set down my backpack on the cool concrete sidewalk. “Hey, Piper,” I say.

“Hey, Josie,” she says. “Were you okay yesterday?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

Her eyes are full of sympathy. “Is this about Louie?”

“Yeah,” I sigh. I can feel wetness around my eyes, but no tears come. “Piper, I’m really sorry. When I passed by you in the hall yesterday and called hello, and you just barely acknowledged me, I kind of got pissed off.”

Piper leans in and hugs me. She smells of fresh pine, a welcoming smell I inhale as we embrace. “Oh, god, Josie- I was just giving you space, since Louie died and you were so distant. I thought maybe you were mad at me, since you snapped at me the other day.”
“I was just super depressed.”
Piper leans back away and gently pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll always be your best friend even when you’re depressed. Trust me, I hung out with that girl Lila for a day, and she annoyed me to the point of feeling like I would rather throw myself off a cliff then stand it another day.”
My giggles at the thought of Lila pause abruptly at Piper’s light, no-harm-meant comment. My issue wasn’t even close to so bad that I was leaning to the point of suicide, but grief is a shadowy enemy that attacks at our worst moments. And it almost always wins.
I almost lost that battle. But I came through, with the help of without people like Piper and Mamá, the shining lights that break through the dreary sadness.
……
I knock sharply on the old oak door. “Mr. Hans? You wanted to speak to me?” I poke my head in.
Mr. Hans stands. His bald head is shiny, and his shirt is crisply ironed. He makes quite a deterring silhouette, his hands resting on his hips in a casual, yet confronting image.
“Hello, Miss Garcia,” he says abruptly. “Come in.”
I do, stepping carefully across the perfectly vacuumed carpet. “I’d like to talk about the grade I recently received on the math test.”
He furrows his eyebrows. They strangely resemble a fuzzy black caterpillar, all squashed together. “You got a D, yes?”
“Yes,” I clarify, pulling my shoulders back.
Mr. Hans pulled out a thick manila folder from his desk, absolutely overflowing with various sheets of paper. He pulls out the test, covered in red slash marks. I wince slightly at that bloody color. Usually I have a Good Job or 100% in a bright, pleasing color such as purple. “It was a very strange occurrence, considering you’d been getting ninety-five percent averages in the homework.”
“I had some difficulties at home,” I tell him. “I’ll retake the test.”
He slips the test back in the folder. “Well, you’re welcome to that, but as I mentioned, you have a very good average. This only brings you down by a little bit, so you’ll get an A minus for the class.”
You know that feeling of joy, of pure content and happiness? It appears in children on Christmas and their birthdays, and occasionally their first love. Now that I look back on it, it seems ridiculous, but nothing made me happier than knowing that I was not going to fail math. Piper and I were still best friends, Mamá and I were back on understanding-each-other terms, and however much I missed Louie, I knew that he had left this life and escaped the pain of cancer. Life is never perfect, but where I currently stood, with my friends and mother beside me, I would be able to keep moving.

THE END