Temera Kachou.
Her day didn't seem to be any better, but Mireh wasn't able to imagine the scenario and how it had
probably
gone. Her only guess was that she had spent a good deal of time composing new poems.
The sun was beginning to set when she pulled into her driveway and texted her that she had arrived. Temera didn't text back, because she came out her front door a few seconds later. Mireh assumed she had been watching for her from her bedroom window.
She had Nathan with her.
“Hey,” Mireh said after she got in the passenger's seat.
“Hey,” Temera said as she buckled herself in.
“Did Retta tell you?”
“Yeah.”
“...”
“...”
“...” Mireh threw her car into reverse, backed out, and drove through Temera's neighborhood. “What did you do today?”
“Not much,” she said. “I wrote a few poems.”
Thought so.
“What did you do today?”
“Less than you.” Sundays weren't the most productive of days for Mireh, but she was a little surprised. Temera Kachou, the quiet girl who mumbled when she talked and trembled during confrontation, did something with her hands and with her life despite—or perhaps because of—knowing that a classmate of hers was knock-knock-knocking at death's front doorstep. “Do...” Mireh couldn't believe she was about to ask this. “...Do you mind if I read the poems you wrote today?”
“I didn't bring them with me.”
“Will you show me at school on Monday, then?”
“You're still going to school on Monday?”
“...I don't know...I guess.”
She came to a stop sign. One way led to Retta's house. The other led to the highway that would take them to the equator.
“You can go,” Temera told her after checking both ways.
“...” Mireh gripped her steering wheel. “I think we should go pick up Retta.”
“We can't.”
“Why not? There's nothing stopping us. We just drive by, run in, grab her, and drag her out to the car. I'll lock her in the trunk if I have to.”
“She doesn't want us picking her up.”
“So? She didn't give us a good reason for not picking her up.”
“Today's her day with her parents,” Temera said. “And she doesn't want us to see her die...”
“Her parents can watch her die, but we can't? What the hell, what's the difference?” she asked. “She even said it herself: she'd rather hang out with me more than her parents.”
“But she knew her parents first.”
“That doesn't—”
“Mireh—”
“What?!”
Temera flinched, hugged Nathan. “...Aren't you supposed to respect the wishes of the dying?”
Mireh opened her mouth. It hung there, nothing coming out. When she closed it, she ground her teeth, then slammed her hand against the wheel. “This is stupid. You're so stupid, Retta...” She turned the steering wheel
toward the highway.
Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.
ns 18.68.41.181da2
