QUINN MEETS EMMA at their usual spot near the office doors. The November sun is already low on the horizon, setting Emma’s auburn hair on fire. The buses are lined up and the parking lot’s a zoo. A bitter wind shepherds stray clouds. The musky scent of fall is fading into the woolly-wet smell of winter.
Quinn hugs her arms to her chest. Her cheeks glow scarlet, camouflaging her brown freckles. “I have to stay late.”
Emma’s forehead crinkles. She scrunches the pink knit cap she’s holding in her hands. “What’d you do?”
“Doesn’t matter,” says Quinn, dropping her chin. Her voice is as thin and wispy as the wind. “I just have to stay.”
Kids from Quinn’s class rush past. They slow down, their gazes lingering on her. They whisper. They’re always whispering.
Emma drops her backpack—the orange one with the huge smiley face. It thunks to the green-tiled floor scuffed with a thousand sneaker skids. “What happened?”
Tears burn at the back of Quinn’s eyes. Soon she won’t be able to keep them from falling. She shrugs. “It’s nothing. Don’t make a big deal.”
Cold seeps through Quinn’s pale gray sweatshirt. It chills her skin, sinking deep into the hollow of her bones. She stares at Emma. Perfect Emma.
Kara approaches. She’s hurrying to catch her bus.
“Sorry,” mutters Quinn.
Kara stops long enough to cast a withering glare. Then she’s off—rushing to make her bus.
“I’ll call you,” says Quinn.
Emma stares. She waits a moment longer. Then she places her cap on her head and picks up her backpack. She slings it over her shoulder, tucks her hands into her pockets, and with one last look turns and walks away.
The sun is fiercely bright. Quinn squints as she watches Emma head through the chaos of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.
Suddenly, she wants to call Emma back. She wants to yell, Don’t go! but her throat is chalky—she has no voice. A pink cap moves farther and farther away, bobbing and weaving through the crowd, disappearing into the sunset.
Quinn lunges forward, but something holds her back. The light is too bright. It stings her eyes.
Then all color washes from the world. Emma is nothing but a dark silhouette melting into the bright sunset that wraps itself around her like a silken cloak.
Emma! Come back!
Quinn struggles wildly. Her feet break free, and she plunges face-first into the light. It jabs and scratches at her. She shields her eyes with her hands.
Then everything disappears—the school, the parking lot, the houses, the street—they’re all gone now. There’s nothing but light.
Piercing.
Blinding.
Light.