THE NIGHT THAT STAYED #3
Mei laughed, but the joke stayed with her.
Your house has bad opinions.
The sentence made Daniel's rules sound less like weather and
more like choices people could disagree with.
After lunch, the class had to write a short essay about a person who influenced them. Mei considered Grace, then immediately rejected the idea. Writing about her mother at school felt dangerous, even though Daniel would never see the assignment unless he demanded it.
She chose Grandma Lillian instead. Grandma taught me that being calm does not mean being weak, she wrote.
She can tell someone no without yelling, and somehow the no still fills the whole room.
Mei stopped. She could hear Grandma's voice at the funeral three years earlier.
You always have me, baby. Always. Why had she not believed that sentence enough to tell her?
Because Daniel had been standing six feet away. Because he had taken her hand after the service and squeezed too hard when Grandma asked if Mei wanted to sleep over.
"She's coming home with me," he had said.
Not angry.
Not loud. Final. Mei had gone. In class, she wrote another line.
Sometimes the safest person in your life is the person who lets you make a choice.
She did not know yet that she was writing about the future.
When the school day ended, Mei lingered near the library.
She told herself she was waiting for the bus crowd to thin.
Really, she was checking whether Daniel's truck appeared again.
It did not. Tiana noticed anyway.
"You keep looking across the street."
"No I don't."
"You do, and your lying eyebrow is doing a thing."
"I don't have a lying eyebrow."
"Everybody has one. Yours is left. Mine is both."
The bus pulled up.
Before Mei boarded, Tiana touched her sleeve. "Whatever the
thing is with your dad, you can tell me. I won't make it bigger on purpose." Mei looked at her. That was the fear, exactly. Making it bigger. Once the truth left her mouth, it might become police cars, courtrooms, questions, disbelief, Daniel's face changing when he realized she knew.
"What if it's already big?" Mei asked.
Tiana did not answer immediately.
"Then maybe you're just the only one carrying it."
Mei climbed onto the bus before the sentence could open
anything else.
* * *
You know better.
Don't make me explain this twice. Mei closed the notification. * * *
The bus horn sounded outside.
Mei opened her eyes. The kitchen was bright now. The banana peel was still in the sink. Her school bag waited by the door. Present day. She breathed in slowly, then out.
At school, Tiana Brooks was waiting exactly where she said she would be, leaning against the brick wall beside the library entrance in a bright red puffer coat. Her braids were gathered into a high ponytail, and one white earbud hung loose against her collar.
"There she is," Tiana said. "The woman who abandoned me in my hour of academic need."
"You had all night to study."
"I had important things to do."
"Like what?"
"Watch six episodes of a show I don't even like."
Mei laughed.
Tiana narrowed her eyes. "Okay, but for real. You look tired."
"I am tired."
"Nightmare again?"
Mei's smile vanished before she could catch it. Tiana knew about the nightmares. She knew Mei hated basements. She knew Grace had died when Mei was nine. She did not know the rest.
"Just didn't sleep good," Mei said.
Tiana studied her face.
"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?"
"You say that every time I'm not telling you something."
"And am I wrong?"
The bell rang before Mei had to answer. They joined the flow of students moving inside.
First period science should have been ordinary.
Ms. Patel passed out quizzes. Someone dropped a metal water bottle.
A boy in the back whispered that mitochondria was "the powerhouse of his downfall."
But halfway through the quiz, a maintenance worker opened the classroom door. He was carrying a ring of keys.
They jingled as he walked. The sound was harmless. Mei's hand stopped moving. Keys. Basement door. Metal against wood. Her father's hand wiping the knob. The room tilted. She stared at question seven and forgot how to breathe.
"Mei?" Ms. Patel's voice sounded far away.
Mei stood too quickly. Her chair scraped back.
Twenty heads turned.
"Bathroom," she said.
She didn't wait for permission.
She made it to the hallway before tears burned behind her eyes.
"Mei!"
Tiana had followed her out.
"I'm fine," Mei said.
"No, you're not."
"I just need a minute."
Tiana stepped in front of her. "You've needed a minute for like three years." The words hit harder than Tiana meant them to.
Mei looked away.
Tiana's expression softened immediately.
"Hey. I didn't mean it like that." Mei swallowed.
Students moved around them, loud and careless and normal.
She suddenly wanted what they had. A problem that could be solved by studying.
A parent who was annoying instead of terrifying. A memory that stayed where it belonged.
"There's something I never told you," Mei said.
Tiana didn't joke this time.
"Okay."
Mei looked toward the classroom door. Then back at her best friend.
"Not here."