Clear Skies

Through the doors, into the hallway, right turn, fifth classroom on the left.

Avoid the soon-to-be drop-outs, slowly walk past the sports players, run away from the unnaturally beautiful girls, hide with the over-achievers.

Just a few simple things she could remember. Along with nobody remembering her name, nobody remembering where she lives, nobody remembering she is still alive. Besides that, she was troubled. There was homework due yesterday? Whoops. The book should be finished today? Dangit. There is a history test tomorrow? Oh.

At least she could rely on the few constants in her life. She won't talk to anybody, nobody will talk to her, and soon enough, she'll fail life. Literally. Death was approaching, and she knew it. She could feel him coming for her.

The doctor had estimated for her to live for another eight weeks. That was exactly seven weeks ago. Leaving her one more week to waste on Earth. When her mom had heard the prognosis, she was a screaming wreck, but after a bottle of vodka, she was much subdued. It seemed that vodka was the only thing keeping her steady, despite the fact she was stumbling all the time now.

The girl herself was calm, knowing that she couldn't stay forever. She stayed cool throughout the course of these past seven weeks. She continued going to school and doing miserably there. After she was picked up by her mom and they went home, she crossed out the day on the calendar with a thick red marker. On weekends, she stayed in her bed, read a book, and watched a movie.

This was how she stayed collected, through routine. Each day of the eighth week passed as normal. That is, until the seventh day, a Friday. She knew she was going to go that evening, exactly as the doctor had predicted. Then, she was a crying, sobbing, begging mess, afraid of what was about to be.

Her mom stopped nursing the vodka, but instead, comforted her. She laid down and felt her mother's embrace, falling asleep in the warmth. The last thing she saw was the sunny sky, with not a cloud to be seen.

When her mother, who had fallen asleep herself, realized what had happened the next morning, she screamed. It lasted a good three minutes and 27 seconds, which was how long it took the neighbor to run over to the house, open the unlocked door, and find the source of the noise. Though she stopped screaming, she was hysterical, and the neighbor used all of his strength restraining her.

A few bottles of vodka later, the mother was alright. Within the next few days, the body was cremated, the ashes were scattered, and the store ran out of vodka.

On Monday, school resumed as normal. Yet, the students could feel something was off. Maybe it was because the principal sounded teary-eyed on the announcements, or because the teachers seemed more grave than normal. The heavy rain outside only made the atmosphere inside darker.

That day, the main subject of the daily gossip was what had happened over the weekend. There were outlandish ideas, like a teacher's son was being held hostage at City Hall or the body of the long-lost janitor had been found in the basement.

A few periods into the day, one of the students, one of the over-achievers, knew what happened. He walked into class with his friends, early as usual. Unusually, the small girl who was always there before him wasn't there. He knew that she would never be there again because she always was.

He had always liked the small girl. Though she never said anything, she was a comfort. A staple in normalcy. He knew she listened to his conversations, even though she wore earphones to appear uncaring. He knew she cared, when she gave that slight upturn of the lips whenever he said something amusing.

And he almost wished he told her that. But he was afraid to not be right, and still is afraid to be wrong, so he was content enough to have kept his feelings for friendship locked in his mind.

Another person, a girl who wore too much make-up and too little clothes, also figured it out. A few times, she had caught the plain girl staring at her, though whenever she was caught, the plain girl quickly looked away.

She had considered inviting the plain girl to a day at the spa with her, but she feared that being with the plain girl in public would be disastrous. If a judgmental friend or cute boy would happen to see them together, she would be drowned in shame. So, she protected her reputation and never went within four meters of the plain girl.

Nearing the end of the day, a baseball player suddenly broke down into tears. Nobody, not his teachers, not his classmates, not his teammates, not his coaches, could understand what happened to him.

After months of observation, the baseball player had slowly fallen head-over-heels in love with the bright and beautiful girl. It happened, though he himself had no clue how. And so, when he heard through the grapevine about the rather unnoticed girl's death, he wept without end.

He had always wanted to tell her how he felt, ask her out to a date, kiss her on the lips. But now she was dead, and now he could never do any of those things. It would be his deepest regret until the day when Death came back for him, decades from then.

The girl who was never noticed suddenly became noticed: when she died. Though she had never talked to anyone, she had touched everyone in inexplicable ways. Still, many forgot her by the time they graduated from schooling and moved on with their lives. Yet, there were still the few who remembered. And that was all she had ever wanted in her short life.

To be remembered.

(993 words)