They looked vaguely familiar. One had auburn hair grazing the top of her shoulders. The other had darker hair that was styled the same. Pink sweaters. Blue jeans. And glitter. They all seemed to wear glitter.

“They popular?” I asked Cora.

“They’re friends of Erin’s.”

Aha. So they would’ve been at the Jensens’ on Saturday. “Gotcha.”

“Okay, Miss Malcolm.” The lady reached for the printer behind her and then extended the papers to me. “Here’s your class schedule, locker number, and combination, and you’ll have to stop in the nurse’s office. She’ll have a form to give to your parents to sign, giving us permission to give you pain pills or Band-Aids, things like that.” She plastered a nice smile on her face, one she’d probably used twenty other times this morning already. “Is your sister coming in?”

Cora gasped.

She didn’t know . . .

The lady froze, noting my reaction and Cora’s. She was thinking, but I could tell she couldn’t figure it out. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, there was an authoritative and slightly condescending tone to her voice, as if we were wasting her time.

“Your sister, Willow Malcolm? If she’s absent today, she’ll need a note. I only received the information for you, my dear.”

I couldn’t say it. The words were stuck in my throat, and I hushed Cora before she could explain.

My fingers were clumsy as I grabbed a pen and piece of paper off the lady’s desk.

She died June 29th, I wrote. Not coming.

I folded the paper over and then folded it again.

Sliding it to her, I grabbed my stuff and hurried out of there. I didn’t want to be anywhere near her when she read it.

I failed.

I heard her gasp as the office door closed behind me.

“The records must not be updated. Or the records at your old school weren’t updated. I don’t know.” Cora was right next to me, holding her books close to her chest.

I was walking blind, no idea where I was going, and it took a moment before I regrouped.

Locker. I needed to find my locker.

Glancing down at the number, I realized I was in the wrong hallway. I’d have to walk back in front of the office again, and there was no way I wanted to do that.

I read my first class and showed Cora the classroom number. “Where is this?”

She bit her lip, tugging at her shirtsleeve. “It’s down the hallway.”

That was welcome news, and I nodded. “I’m going to class.”

“We still have twenty minutes—”

I was already off. I called over my shoulder, “That’s fine with me.”

I’d find my locker later.

When I got to the room, the teacher wasn’t in, so I couldn’t ask if there would be assigned seating. I slid into the seat in the back row and farthest from the door. I still had my book bag with me, but I didn’t care. I pulled out a notebook and pencil, and I put my phone in my lap, making sure it was on silent. Then I looked out the window as everyone came in.

Conversations slowed as people filled in around where I was sitting.

I felt them watching me. I didn’t look. I couldn’t. A few tears slipped down, and I willed them to stop. I was doing a great impersonation of a statue.

Perhaps that was what I’d be for Halloween.

“Okay, everyone.” The teacher paused when the door opened.

I finally looked around, surprised at who sat beside me. Before I could process that, a student darted into the classroom and handed a note to the teacher.

As he stopped and read it, a weird déjà vu came over me.

I knew. I knew what he was going to do next.

The teacher stiffened, looking up. His eyes moved over the students, landing on me.

Remorse flared in his eyes before he coughed, handed the student back the note, and murmured, “Maybe let the next teacher know as well. All of them, in fact.” He said it quietly, but I heard him in the back of the room.

The school didn’t want teachers to make the same mistake as the office lady, so news of my sister’s death was circulating, room to room. No teacher would read the attendance sheet and ask for Willow Malcolm. No one would ask if we were sisters and where she was.

It was a nice gesture, but I felt stripped raw anyway.

I had a strong feeling the teacher wouldn’t call my name during attendance, and I was right. He named every other student in the room.

When he called on Ryan’s friends—Nick and Tom—they replied “Here” from the seats around me, and I was grateful. I wasn’t sure if this was where they normally would’ve sat, but I’d take it.

Their presence shielded me.

I was brave enough to sneak past the office after my second class. It was ridiculous. I was sandwiched inside a group of students, but I swear I felt the office lady watching me. I knew it couldn’t be true.