Peejay watched the world through the navy blue haze of his mother’s pashmina. Everyone seemed to think he was sleeping at all times, and though he was dozing much more than normal, he spent much of the day simply looking out at the school. He watched Marisa, Amira, Kenji and Celeste get closer. Physically more than anything. It was amazing to see them return to their places around Marisa again and again, each day tightening the semicircle a little more. It was as if they felt someone had assigned them the spots, and they weren’t allowed to change, weren’t free to go where they wanted. Or rather, it was as if they’d all secretly wanted to be assigned the same group project, had been longing for each other’s company all this time, and were thrilled now for the excuse.
Somehow, despite his retreat into his pashmina, despite his lack of interest in interacting with the world, despite the little he gave them on the rare times he stood or sat near them with his pashmina draped around his shoulders, they seemed to include him in their makeshift group.
They ate together, always, like a family, though not exactly the liveliest family he’d seen, what with Celeste’s silence and Kenji’s lost laugh and Amira’s soul trapped in inactivity and Marisa staring off into the distance and thinking obviously of the sea, holding her breath as if she were snorkeling, diving down to see the fish feeding on the reef’s many tiny branches. And Peejay was the depressive they never talked about but cared for, anyway. They left him little plates on the floor when he slept, like offerings at a shrine. Since he couldn’t bring himself to go to the kitchen three times a day, he took them gratefully, like a stray cat lapping at a bowl of milk, though he didn’t always remember emerging from his soft-clothed shell to eat.
Hamish, had he been around to see all this, had he survived long enough for Peejay to exit the building and tell him the story of lock-in night, might have loved this part of the story more than anything else. This had been the happiness Peejay had felt on lock-in night, the reason he’d watched from afar and not joined in. The joy was in bringing joy to others.
* * *
Omar had emptied the trash bin onto the floor and was using a broom handle to sort through wadded paper towels. He found another plastic bag, ripped open, delivery food containers shoved back inside, Styrofoam and vastly unrecyclable no. 6 plastic sticky with soy sauce. The bag couldn’t have possibly fit through the window with containers inside, so why take it into the building at all? He didn’t understand the people around him anymore. He shook his head and flipped the broom around, sweeping the plastic into a separate garbage bag.
People had taken to calling him “Sweep” as in “Did you see Omar ‘Sweep’ Ng again?” It didn’t bother him. In fact, he was happy that, in his athletic life, no similar lazy nickname had ever stuck around (a few teammates had tried to take a similar approach with his last name and dubbed him Omar “Score” Ng, but it was impossible to use the ill-conceived nickname anywhere near the basketball court without creating mass confusion, so it had quickly died out). He wouldn’t mind being known for this, though, he thought as he righted the trash can back up.
Then he looked over toward Peejay, to see if he had emerged. He had not, and it made Omar think of Hamish, whom he had never met, but whose well-being he wished for more than anything else.
* * *
From the foyer, watching Omar passing by, Celeste sat up and yawned, wondering what he did with all that plastic he collected. She checked her hair covering to make sure it hadn’t moved throughout the night, then looked down at her phone and saw text messages from her mom (How’s prison?) and from Jamie back home. Ever since the lock-in and the news segments, Jamie and a few others had started texting again, though lately less and less, just like it had been when Celeste had first moved. Eventually the fact of the lock-in would no longer be enough to maintain conversation, just like the fact of the move hadn’t been enough to fight off time zones and absence.
For now, though, her heart pulsed with joy at having