The Leading of Paper Cranes

Chapter 1: One Fold Too Many

I'm somebody. Somebody somewhere living life. It feels as if I'm monologuing to myself as Mr. Ramirez goes on and on about the book we're reading. Or we were going to read until he started to explain practically the meaning of life to us. It feels as if boredom should overtake me, and it does, however more just to speaking to myself. His speeches are normally morbidly long, long-winded even. He wastes time out of our learning time, a concept almost every teacher explains to us, he's the only exception, I mean I enjoy not doing work but I wish I could be home and not on the 2nd floor of Miriyad High learning about a well developed character. Jazz sits next to me twiddling his thumbs. I stare at him. Wish I could date him but that's not a possibility. My parents would be livid if I brought a date home.

"Roland, you need something?". My train of thought was broken, Jazz was right in my face.
"Oh.", I stutter between my teeth, "Nah."

I stared at him too long, staring into his dreamy eyes. My mind then wanders off, but was interrupted by the bell. Funny, we never went to go through even one page of Willow.

Woodworking was next. Quite honestly I enjoy it. Mainly for the singular reason that the two best people in the world were there, my sister and Jazz. I guess a third, Mr. Freynas. He is one of the best teachers in the school, at least to students he is. Engaging and funny is his premise, even during the safety lesson he cracked some jokes. Even still my mind is somewhere else in the moment, usually it would be my phone snatching my attention away before class starts, but this time it was the singular spiderweb in the corner, couldn't fix my gaze anywhere else. Slowly but surely I see the class get full in the corners of my eyes. Then something else catches my eye. A supply teacher, Mr. Freynas is never usually away.

The whole class sighs in disappointment, all I can remember is that they were excited for making their first piece of furniture. "Good morning class," the supply teacher says enthusiastically, I already hate her. Her hair is brown and has clothes similar to a stereotypical English teacher, not suitable for construction. "My name is Mrs. Haslow, today you will be working on whatever you please, as per instruction of your teacher." Already a buzzkill. It's already been a minute and everyone is slouched on their saw tables (not under the saws, safety first) and on their phones. Mrs. Haslow didn't care, she did the same thing.

"Yes, Maveah?", these words capture my attention. Seems like my sister is going to the washroom, actually probably to the art office to make paper cranes. "May I go to the washroom?" the teacher nods a nod of affirmation. She leaves the room. The minutes pass by like hours until the bell becomes our saviour once more. My sister hasn't come back yet. "You should probably go find her.", I got surprised by Jazz, "Maybe the paper cranes got to her head?". I may as well, I can find her before next class, even if I'm late it's only gym I'm missing. I head to room 347D, the art room of Ms. Bella. The door is creaked slightly open, maybe she forgot to close it all the way. I love looking into the glass windows and peering outside of the art room windows, it always looks serene and magical. However this time was not serene and magical. The silhouette of a figure laying on the floor next to the window captures my eye. I don't have a photographic memory, but this shot painted itself like paintbrush to easel staining my mind a blood red. I turn on the lights just to see a horrific sight. Paper cranes spiral around her head, exact same ones that she makes. She sits there lifelessly, eyes open peering into the scheme of death. My sister, as fragile as a paper crane, sits there.

I should be crying shouldn't I. I don't. I don't feel like I am able to. Even if I try I can't. I feel devastated but not sad. Is that what it's supposed to be? My eyes widen as I turn to the school phone to call the main office. I did the same as my sister. I sat there, underneath the school phone which hung there. Except the only difference is one has a heart still beating, one has one trying to grasp the edge of life.