Unwritten Pages

The next day comes quickly. It passes quickly too, as an event less day like most days in eleventh grade. We had our graduation two weeks ago when Winter was...still alive. So we didn't have anything important going on right now.

Liane doesn’t bother me—us. Desiree and I are back together (though we didn't even tell each other we were back together, it was just a thing that we both knew) and Arianna seem to act like herself again.

Days blurred together until it finally becomes Friday, June twenty-ninth. The last day of school.

The last day of high school, to be exact.

When I get to school, I see people bawling. When I get to class, I see a lot of girls bawling. Ms. Marr hands us back our English test while people are crying their eyes out.

Desiree greets me happily. I kiss her on the cheek as I sit down.

“Why aren't you crying with them?” I ask her.

Desiree shrugs. “I use to cry, remember?”

I grin. “I remember you sobbing for weeks during tenth grade. It wasn't like you were moving schools, but you were traumatized.”

Desiree laughs. “I remember that. It was my time of the month,” she says, looking at me slyly. “And I was really moody. So I started to sob for no reason and then I found a reason while I was sobbing. And then I kept crying about that for a week.”

I smile. “It was really awkward for me because I kind of thought it was my fault until you said you were crying because of the end of school.”

“I'm not crying this year,” she says simply. Though there's some sort of sadness in her eyes as she says this. I know why—this is nothing compared to Winter's death. This is nothing compared to the torture of rumours that Liane threw on her—if even just for a day.

“I hope you don't,” I say, “that would depress me a lot. Like the time in the washroom with you.” The moment I say 'washroom', I'm reminded of Winter's journal and the whole washroom fiasco she had with her American cousins.

Desiree gives me a smile. “Yeah, that would suck. And then you would have to come in the girl's washroom again and bribe some ninth graders.”

“I didn't bribe them! I just said my name and they just backed off. I'm a celebrity, you see? That's why they let me through,” I joke.

Desiree punches me playfully in the arm. Playing my joke again, I say: “Ow! I hit my arm there last there and there was a huge bruise!” I clutch my arm where she hit me.

Desiree's eyes widen like usual. “Oh my gosh! I didn't know! I'm so sorry! Let me see—”

She lifts up my shirt sleeve to find no bruises. She scowls at me. “Playing this joke again?”

“You know you care about me,” I say slyly.

Desiree rolls her eyes. “I should be more like Arianna. Next time, I should punch you harder.”

“You know you wouldn't do that,” I protest. “That's not like you at all. You're the innocent Desiree Lilian, remember?”

Desiree shrugs, “who knows? I could be secretly violent or a secret assassin planted in this school to kill you or I—”

I cut her off. “I'll believe that when the world ends.”

“You know,” Desiree begins, “the world can actually end one day. It's not like... It's not like it's impossible. Like if our sun burns out and then we all just die—”

For the rest of our classes, we talk nonstop about random, stupid things. There's no end of the school assembly, so the day continues as normal, though it will end slightly earlier than usual.

When it's art, Desiree and I head towards our class. When we get there, Arianna is already there. She squeals like a little girl when she sees us and gives us both a massive hug. Everyone in the class turns and stares.

They're staring because of Arianna and because of Winter.

We take our seats and Ms. Loreen cuts us some slack by not giving us work to do. It's the last day of school anyways. It's for saying goodbye, not homework.

Saying goodbye...

We didn't get to say goodbye to Winter... But I said goodbye to her...over the phone. She must have known it would be the last time we would talk to each other...

“Hey Andrew, something else...” Winter's voice is cracked and she seems like she wants to cry over the phone.

“Yeah?” It's been at least an hour since I picked up her call. My parents will probably be mad for talking so long, but I don't really care. As long as I can pay for it. Though I don't have a job this year—I'll have to apply in the summer.

“Just want to say,” she begins. “Whatever happens, nothing is because of you.”

I don't get it so I just go, “what?”

“Listen to me,” she says, “whatever happens, it's not your fault. Let me clarify it—no matter what bad things happen in my life, it's not because of you.”

“Oh-kay,” I say, still not getting it. But I let it slide by.

“So do you understand me? Are you clear? No matter what happens—”

“It's not because of me,” I finish. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Good night,” I say.

Before I can cut the line, I hear Winter say, very softly, “goodbye. God knows when we shall meet again.”

I know that line is from one of the 'Romeo And Juliet' movies that she watched. When Juliet was about to take the poison and run away, she says this to her mother.

“What?” I say. But the line and dead and I know that Winter has disconnected.

God knows when we shall meet again.