if they had to wait for this they might be chained up for years. “We’re not gonna keep going for years,” she’d said, though it wasn’t enough to convince them. They could see her keeping up the fight indefinitely, until they were all old and wrinkled; they’d have to get online college degrees still at their respective doors, they’d have to get married while chained up, they’d die here, from the effects of climate change or something else.
Despite their fears, Marisa had left the demand in. And now she had an email in her inbox, forwarded to her by Nigel from the school board. She awoke groggily from her painkiller haze, at first not quite sure what she was looking at.
At the request, insistence and influence of the distinguished members who sat on the school board and the alumni committee, all those influential parents upping the pressure, the news reports starting to fire back up, the local city had vowed, perhaps a little precipitously, their critics would say, to be carbon net-neutral within the next three years. The city as a whole would not be adding to the deterioration of the environment. An ordinance had already passed through the city council after each member received an overwhelming amount of social media messages from their constituents and plenty who weren’t (plus a few bots).
* * *
Three. Marisa had to ask Nurse Hae if she’d given her another dose, to which the nurse furrowed her brow and checked her notes. “No.”
Some countries had promised to do their best in ten years, twenty. Three? She reread the email, saw it included a press conference that very afternoon for the mayor to make the announcement. Whether the city was capable of actually achieving it was one thing; that they would try, though? That alone might make the whole endeavor worth it. A city of that size, net-neutral. Other cities might follow suit. They might speed up their own promises at least. Her actions would not be undone by the school.
She watched as the news broke out over CIS, the way news had been breaking all week, as if by osmosis, like an invisible wave bearing down on all of them, some with a crash. With others it gently lapped at their legs, frothed between their toes.
Amira, who’d just briefly stepped away from watching Marisa doze, appeared from the bathroom door and ran toward her, a smile visible from across the room, framed by her hijab. Marisa was shocked to realize it was the first time she’d actually seen her run since lock-in night. It seemed like she crossed the foyer in two long, measured strides, and for a moment Marisa thought Amira might take her face in her hands and kiss her and say, “This is to celebrate.”
It was amazing how quickly the fantasy occurred in her mind, and how, just like that, it felt possible. It had felt all week like maybe it would happen, like there was a reason Amira was still at her side, caring for her, and the reason was something beyond mere compassion.
* * *
When Amira arrived she didn’t know how to properly show her enthusiasm, so she just stopped short in front of Marisa and clutched her own hands together. “How great is this?”
Marisa paused, waited to see if there was more. Silly to think so, silly to let any disappointment take over in the face of this accomplishment. Amazing what fantasies could do. “I can’t put it into words,” she said.
Amira was already leaning down to the duffel bag to grab a marker. “I think it’s gonna happen,” she said. She uncapped the marker and handed it to Marisa, their fingers brushing like usual. “You’re going to do it.” Amira’s heart was racing. The world now would see Marisa not just as a girl chained to a door, but a girl who could enact change. A girl with will, and the power to make it come to fruition.
* * *
“Yeah,” Marisa said, almost adding a “maybe” but deciding, no, no “maybe.” This was going to happen. For her leg’s sake, which was in so much pain Marisa wasn’t sure which verb she should use to describe it: screaming, throbbing, bursting. “Although maybe you should do the actual crossing off.” She gestured at the blanket covering her.
“Right.” The marker passed back, another goose-bump-riddled touch.
Amira crossed the three demands off, and eyed the remaining twenty-four.
Marisa meanwhile couldn’t keep her eyes off Amira, wondering if she’d kiss her now. Now.