‘I thought you might have a use for this,’ said Mr Glass. It was a blackboard on a stand. ‘So that no one walks past the library without realising there’s something special going on in here.’

‘Thanks, Mr Glass,’ said Harper. ‘We’re worried that not many people will come.’

Mr Glass took a long time to look around the room. ‘They’ll come,’ he said, gravely. Harper had grown to like his serious ways.

He was about to leave when Harper got up the courage to ask him something. ‘Mr Glass, I heard a rumour and I’m not sure if it’s true. Is Riverlark closing the library?’

‘It depends how you look at it,’ said Mr Glass. ‘If you mean are we knocking down this particular building? Then yes, we are.’

She heard Misha’s sigh of disappointment but she could tell that Mr Glass had something else to say.

‘But?’ she said.

‘We have a beautiful new spot for a library. In the old building. And I can see that we need to update the book collection, too. I’ve reserved some of next year’s budget for that. You’ll have to come back and see it when you’re both in high school.’

Then, just as serious as ever, he took one more look around the room and added, ‘Simply terrific!’

There was a queue outside at recess that snaked all the way back to the friendship bench. Harper and Misha had to be careful about how many people they could let in at once because every room had a maximum since the virus. But the kids who couldn’t wait said they’d be back at lunch, and lots stayed anyway. They loved the old typewriter and the pencil sharpener, and everyone touched it like it was a precious old thing that deserved respect, even the kids who were as gentle as hammers any other time.

It was the same at lunch, and not just the students but all the teachers, too. Even Barb came over. She squeezed Harper’s arm, winked and tapped her nose before she left. It took Harper a few moments to think why, then she remembered: it was Barb who’d whispered Harper’s name for library captain to Mr Glass at that first assembly.

Harper kept stealing glances at Misha. Her favourite part was that she had a friend she could share this with.

As the lunch bell rang, and she realised it was over—really over—she could feel sadness coming like a great wave. Then she was hugged from behind by a friend who put her chin on Harper’s shoulder. She could tell it was Cleo.

Harper turned around. Cleo had always seemed like she was the right height for her personality, but Harper, at the same height, had often felt as if she wasn’t ready to be in her own body.

But not any more. Mae’s story and Will’s too had made her feel brave. She didn’t have a war to fight; it was just that she’d loved something—a library—when others had thought it didn’t matter. She’d survived months without Liz and Larry, too.

Will had died thinking that he was a failure, but what mattered was how he’d lived. When Harper pictured the last time she saw him, she knew he had worked it out.

Harper wanted to be a writer of these kinds of stories. She’d hold onto that—secretly—until she was ready.

‘You’re so clever. It looks amazing in here,’ Cleo said.

‘Thanks. And thanks for making that drawing even more brilliant.’

She pointed at the framed sketch next to the photograph of Will. Cleo had added a small, scruffy trench dog next to the soldier’s enormous boots.

‘Come on,’ Cleo said. ‘Let’s go and graduate.’

Liz and Larry were waiting outside the school gates with Lolly when she came out. Harper’s shirt was covered in signatures and her bag was stuffed full: rolled-up posters, a clay head that was supposed to be Ro but was so terrible that she’d decided not to tell him, her books and projects, and a small silver cup that both she and Misha had been presented with at the ceremony for their work with the Riverlark archive.

‘Mum’s giving us a lift home with all of your stuff,’ said Liz, ‘and she’s staying for a special dinner.’

‘Oh, but can’t I go and get ice cream with everyone first?’ said Harper.

‘Of course. Just be back by six-thirty,’ Liz replied, looking extra happy.

Things really had changed—that was a full hour later than she was allowed last year.

As Harper looked around for the rest of the group—Cleo, Ro, Tahira, Sol, Augie, Jake and Misha were all going to Scoops together—she caught a glimpse of Corey walking out of the gates with Briar and Dree, going in the other direction. They’d gone a little way when Corey looked back at her. She couldn’t make out what his expression meant. But she hoped he was still a tiny bit afraid of her and her ghost.

They were so noisy that the manager of Scoops said he would give them all an extra flavour if they promised to eat their ice creams outside. They agreed, of course, and headed to the park.

Harper could not believe that Riverlark was over for them, or that today felt so right.

At six twenty-five she turned into her street. It was quiet, with no cars about, and she could imagine for a moment what lockdown had been like right here. She hadn’t been far away but somehow what she saw as she walked home was different. Or she was different.

Liz opened the door before she’d even had a chance to get out her key. Her smile was so big and warm, just like Lolly’s. At the doorstep, Liz reached out to take something from Harper’s hair.

‘Here you are. That’s good luck,’ said Liz.

Harper held it carefully and smiled. It was a perfect yellow leaf.