The Deadly Sister by Eliot Schrefer

quiet.
    He looked miserable, twisting back and forth behind the microphone. Some guidance counselor had encouraged him to speak, I’m sure, as a way to bring the school together. But all that was happening was that we were drowning this grieving kid in silence. I started to clap, just to break the horrible moment. Only a few dozen other people took it up, but the show of support was enough to get Brian to start speaking.
    “Thank you all for coming today,” he said. “My family really appreciates everyone’s help. We do.” He took a big breath. “I think I’m supposed to say something about how death is both ugly and beautiful, how it’s a big loss but at least it brings out the best in everyone. But Jefferson’s death isn’t like that. I’m supposed to say how wonderful he was, how he was an honor roll student, like it’s better when kids like me, who aren’t on the honor roll, die. So I’m not going to say anything wonderful about my brother.”
    He dragged out a pause, as if to emphasize some coming point of drama in his speech. You know how speakers will make you feel as bad as possible, only to swoop down and rescue the moment? But Brian just turned off the mike and left the gymnasium.
    The principal was momentarily stunned and then took the mike and turned it back on. “Guidance is open. Come talk at any time. But for now, back to fifth period, everybody.” A moan rose from the group. “Yes, there’s twenty minutes left. Get going!”
    After psychology, math was my favorite subject. Even so, there was no way in hell I was going to the second half of a calculus quiz—I couldn’t work up any concern for math, not now. But I wasn’t sure how to handle Cheyenne. If I said I didn’t want to go to class, she’d insist on keeping me company, and I wanted nothing more than to be alone. So, as the girls headed down the hallway, I stopped at the main concourse. “I have to get my books and stuff.”
    They stood in a straight line, watching me nervously, like alien heads were about to erupt from my neck.
    “For real. I’ll be there in a minute. I just have to get my books! Why are you staring at me like that?”
    “It’s a quiz; you don’t need a book,” Cheyenne said.
    “Don’t worry about it. I’ll. See. You. There,” I said, and dashed into the crowd.
    “Don’t forget, cap and gown orders are due today!” Cheyenne called after me.
    Of course I didn’t head for the lockers, but instead went for the front doors of the school. I was pushing on the handle when I was stopped by a teacher—and the worst teacher to run into when you want to be alone. Mr. Duarte, hip clothes and an endless willingness to invade your personal space if it will get you to Talk About Your Feelings. He stoodin front of the doors, a calm and sympathetic smile on his face. “Hey.”
    I’d fanned my keys between my fingers, like I was preparing to defend against a mugger. I let them fall into my pocket. “Hey,” I said.
    “I understand if you want to leave and spend this time alone or with your family. I’m not going to stop you. But listen: Maya’s in my advisory group. She hasn’t shown up for ages. Do you know why?”
    I shook my head, mumbled something about her deciding to go for her GED.
    “It’s a trying time, and I want to keep an eye on all my kids. Well, I figured she might not be coming in for a while, since she was so close to Jefferson, and she should have a chance not to fail this year. I’ve put together a list of assignments from her teachers in case she wants to pass any of her classes. Do you think you could bring her textbooks home to her?”
    “What do you know about her and Jefferson?” I asked.
    “Why don’t you come to my classroom, and we’ll talk about it.”
    “No, thanks, Mr. Duarte.”
    He pressed a piece of paper into my hand. “Come by anytime. Meanwhile, stay around other people, okay? Don’t go through this alone.”
    I stared down at the page. At the top was Maya’s