Mayday by Jonathan Friesen

Teens master them. I lived by them. I wondered if, in my attempt to put Jude in his place, my note had ratcheted up the stakes for Crow and Adele.
    Even in death I was doing damage to myself.
    But tonight, all would reverse. I’d make up for everything I’d done.
    My few days back at Midway had seen me transitioned from regular courses to extended stays in the special education room. Like Crow, I “struggled” through every subject, stumbled over every word.
    â€œNow Shane, I
know
you can read this.” Ms. Jounquil placed a few lines before me.
    I slowly formed the word. “The bot—”
    â€œBoy.”
    â€œThe boy and has—”
    â€œHis. The word is his.”
    â€œThe bot and his toy . . .
    Ms. Jounquil threw up her hands. “How is it that a child—”
    â€œTeen.”
    â€œHow is it that a teen as verbally literate as yourself—”
    â€œYou. As literate as you.”
    â€œThis is pure insanity!” She rose, took a cleansing-breath walk around the room, and plunked down across from Kayla, who by all appearances truly could not read.
    â€œWe’ve reached our last day without Crow.” Ms. Hurls, another para with an unfortunate name, pulled up a chair. “It will sure be a lot more interesting when she returns.”
    I closed my book. I always liked Hurls. She was a no-nonsense, no-trying-to-save-the-world, punch-in/punch-out, type of assistant.
    â€œDid you know”—she chuckled and folded her arms—“that Crow toppled her desk onto my lap the first day she was here?”
    Sure do.
    I reached for a pencil and doodled on the blank sheet before me. “Do you recall what you said before she did it?”
    Ms. Hurls scrunched her face, and then shook her head. “That was a long time ago.”
    â€œYou said, and I quote, ‘Crow, I’ve heard you were coming. You’re Dr. Jude Drayton’s daughter. How lucky for you and Adele. To have a man like that work you over? You probably get free personal therapy whenever you need it.”
    She stared at me. “I did say something like that. Crow remembered that? She told you?”
    â€œYeah, but listen.” I set down the pencil and looked her in the eye. “She went home and thought about the whole deal. You couldn’t know. She felt bad about the toppling.”
    â€œSure she felt bad.” Hurls patted my back, paused, and squinted. “Think she did?”
    I sighed. “I know it. According to her, you’re one of the good ones here. She told me herself. She told me about everyone. Say, I need a pass to the office.”
    Hurls, her face aglow, glanced at Ms. Jounquil and slipped me a note. I left the room, clear on what I would do on this, the day before Mayday.
    A quick run down the hall brought me to chemistry.
    This is going to be painful.
    I closed my eyes and pushed into the room. Heads swiveled, and gazes fixed on me.
    â€œMr. Jenkins?” I stepped in and closed the door behind me. “I come with an apology.”
    Jenkins didn’t bother to glance up. “You come in the middle of a lab. Find me after class and I’ll be much more forgiving.”
    â€œNormally I would, but there may not be time. This apology is from Crow Raine, who is unable to be here today.” A deep hush fell over the room. “Crow is terribly sorry she strapped glass beakers to your chair. Though she did not act alone, she feels bad for her part. The fact that she drew blood makes it worse. It was very unclassy, and she’s very sorry.”
    I felt a loosening deep inside, as if a painful tether had been cut. I felt lighter. No wonder the world dumped their problems on Lifeless.
    Mr. Jenkins frowned and removed his spectacles, placing them carefully on the front lab table. “To my knowledge, I will not be blessed with Crow’s presence until next year.”
    â€œOops. That’s right, that’s eighth