Incognizant

1

It's been three whole days since Alisha died, but her shadow lurks around every corner of the school.

I see it in the barren hallways, the way my fellow students huddle in little knots and bundles instead of bustling in great hordes like usual. I see it in faces hid behind hands, glistening eyes, whispers that tumble and flow and catch around her old locker. She was a popular girl, Alisha. The kind who strolled through the hallways with seven friends by her side and stopped to hug every other person she met. Her presence was the sort that permeated a room and made everyone simultaneously glad to know her and jealous of her charisma.

I'd never been hugged by Alisha myself, or even had a conversation with her, so it surprises me how much I'm affected by her death. As I shuffle through the corridors I feel a strange kinship with my crying classmates. Alisha had a way of bringing people together and making you feel like a part of things even when you weren't. Even now, in death, the grief she inspires smoothens away rivalries and hushes the regular teenage bickering. In all my years at this school it's never been so quiet.

But as I walk towards my first period class, the quiet dissipates. A huge crowd has gathered at a junction between corridors, their murmurs swelling to a loud buzz. I linger on the edges, wondering what's going on.

"They've roped off that whole school block," a black-haired guy says to a friend, "don't want anyone tampering with evidence."

A wide-eyed girl jumps in. "Yeah, apparently they found her slumped on one of those benches at the edge of the senior courtyard. You know, the wooden ones?"

I shudder internally. Those benches used to be my favorite reading spot. Guess I'll have to find a new one.

"I read the news report. The security guard who found her thought she was sleeping. And, oh my god, he tried to shake her awake. Imagine that! Shaking someone and realizing that... that... eugh."

The friend winces. "Real bad luck."

The girl nods. "Yup. Especially since," she lowers her voice, "lots of people think it's a murder."

"What?" The black haired boy frowns. "I thought they're saying it was suicide."

"Alisha, suicide? No way. She was, like, the happiest person ever."

"Why on earth would someone kill her, though?"

"I don't know, but that death wasn't natural and it wasn't suicide, so that doesn't leave a whole lot of possibilities."

"But there were no marks on the body, no signs of a struggle, nothing off at all."

"Wait, so how'd she die?"

"That's the thing. Nobody knows."

The bell goes, but the gossiping crowd shows no signs of dispersing. Murder scenes are more interesting than class, I suppose. I briefly consider wading through the crowd -- my class is through the hallway on the other side -- but just the thought makes my skin itch with claustrophobia. I'm really not a fan of bodily contact, you could say. It's been that way as long as I can remember.

I tap my toe impatiently, standing against the wall to avoid getting jostled by hurrying students. The crowd is thinning, but it's taking too long. Sighing, I turn around and duck into one of my secret shortcuts.

Luckily I'm not too late to class. I sit in the back, in a corner, as always. Ms.Geet didn't notice me sneaking in -- she was already busy waxing poetic about the beauty of the lymphatic system. She's a lot more interested in her own lecture than the class; everyone around me is fidgety and I see more than one phone flipped open under the table.

I'm fidgeting myself by the time Rav shows up at the door. Ms Geet notices this time. Whispers flutter through the class.

"Sorry I'm late," he mumbles and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. Everything about him is in disarray. Clothes rumpled, glasses askew.

An awful sort of pity is written across Ms Geet's face. "It's all right, child. Take a seat."

He trudges to the back of the class and slides into a desk right across from me. Now that he's closer, I can see the sickly pallor on his face and his bloodshot eyes. He and Alisha weren't dating, but they were getting there. Or at least, that was what I assumed until what happened last Thursday. When I'd overheard a conversation between them in the chemistry lab -- on the second floor, almost exactly above where we were sitting right this moment.

It was during afterschool club time, when most people had gone home and the hallways were still and empty. I happened to be passing by the chemistry lab when I heard a bark of laughter. Not a happy laugh, though. A twisted, sarcastic grimace sort of laugh.

"Yeah, sure, Rav. You can tell your precious friends all about it, and maybe scream it from the rooftops while you're at it, too. Their approval is so much more important than my life, right?"

"No -- Ali -- I'm just trying to help. Some of them are experienced with this sort of thing..."

"Look, I told you what I need right now, and it's not advice."

"So I'm just supposed to stand here and watch you spiral?"

"Yeah, Rav. You are. Because this isn't about you. Stop being so damn selfish and let me deal with things."

"Selfish? All I've done for the last two whole months is put you first. I've taken a lot of blows for you, even if I didn't always make the best choices."

"Don't flatter yourself. All you've done is dig my hole deeper."

"I've done more than you, at least. Tell me, when was the last time you spoke to Meira? You act like you're the only one hurting, the only one struggling, the only one lost. News flash: you're not alone, and you've got to accept that."

"Ugh, Thank you so much for all your concern, but you've been useless so far, so forgive me for ignoring you."

I jolted upright and pressed myself against the wall as the door slammed open and Alisha stormed out. She was as commanding as ever, with her tall frame and long billowy hair, but there was something off. Maybe the way her shoulders drooped a tiny bit, or lines crinkled her usually flawless forehead, but she looked different from the confident diva who had strode through the halls just an hour before.

For some reason it felt like I was seeing Alisha for the very first time.

Now, as I gaze at Rav, I can't help but wonder. He's so pale, so drawn out... is he really just distressed? Or guilty?

Because, I'm coming to realize, that conversation in the chemistry lab might have been the last one of Alisha's life.

And as I realize that, an even more terrible truth dawns on me.

I may have been the last one to see Alisha alive.