Chapter Twelve

Reese and I sat on our bikes and waited as Isaac finished his chalk tally sheet. It had rained the night before—it had been raining a lot the last week. He traced over each of the strokes and then added today’s mark. It was day 36.

“Did you ever think it would last so long?” Reese asked.

“I don’t think anybody did. Who could have imagined any of this?”

Isaac looked up from his work. “Seven weeks ago, if you were wearing masks, sanitizing your hands fifteen times a day and washing your groceries when you came home, people would have thought it more than a little strange.”

“Now if you weren’t doing all those things it would be strange,” I said.

Isaac climbed on his bike, and we started off. “There are still some people who think this whole thing is ridiculous. My mother told me there’s going to be a protest in the park.”

“What are they protesting?” Reese asked.

“They think the virus is fake.”

“Fake? People are dying. How is that fake?” I asked.

“Some of them are business owners who want to reopen because they’re losing money. And others say they’d rather be dead than give up their freedom.”

“Lucky them. They might get their wish,” I said.

“They might also get a fine. Protesters who get too close to each other are going to get an $800 ticket for not practicing physical distancing.”

“Turn up ahead,” I said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

We came to our first stop. Jenna was sitting on her front lawn. She got up as we approached and waved hello. We yelled out greetings as we came to a stop, making sure we weren’t too close to her or each other. She looked pretty happy to see us. She held up a little plastic bag.

“How many?” Isaac asked.

“Seven.”

“Way to go, Jenna! Just leave the bag on the edge of the sidewalk,” Reese said.

She put it down and backed away. Reese was wearing clear latex gloves. She picked up the bag and put it into a big blue plastic box strapped to the back of her bike. This was the first stop of many. What had started with just our class had grown to include almost every student from every class in our whole grade.

“Do you three remember the last time we were all together?” I asked.

Nobody answered. I had to remind them. “We were planning the spring dance.”

“Hard to believe that was our biggest worry,” Jenna said. “Well, Isaac wasn’t that worried even then.”

“Like I said, it’s a dance. I could plan something like that in my sleep. Anyway, we have to get going,” Isaac said. “One stop down and another gazillion to go.”

“Raise your hand if you’re tired,” Reese said.

“I think I’m too tired to raise a hand,” Isaac replied.

“It was fun to see everybody,” I answered.

The best part about collecting masks had been visiting people in real life instead of in a Zoom session or on Facetime. I couldn’t believe how much I’d missed them all. Everybody had been excited to see us, and a bunch had even started crying. I’d almost starting crying a few times myself.

Now we were making our final stop. Vista Village Lodge. We could see that there were lots of people out on their balconies. They started to clap and cheer and whistle. A big handmade sign, painted in red on a white bedsheet, was draped over the front door. It read, Thank you, Switzerland Point Middle School Students!

We stopped and got off our bikes.

“Definitely worth the ride,” Isaac said. He pulled out his camera. “You two keep going. I want to get this on video.”

Reese unstrapped the plastic bin from her bike, and we walked toward the door. The cheers got louder. The door opened, and a woman in a nurse’s uniform, wearing a mask, came out. But there was another person with her. It was Reese’s grandmother! She was also wearing a mask.

Reese and I stopped with a safe distance between us. I knew that both of us weren’t far from tears. Reese put down the bin. “Here are the masks we made. So many students contributed.”

“We can’t thank you enough,” said the nurse. “This is so very kind of you.”

“It was the least we could do,” I said. “Thank you for all you’re doing to keep everyone safe.”

“Reese, darling, it’s so good to see you,” said her grandmother.

“You too, Gran. I just wish I could hug you, but you know I can’t.”

“You already gave everyone here the best hug you could,” the nurse said. “You kids are wonderful.”

The nurse started crying. And so did Reese. And so did I.