Page 23 of When We Were Magic
I turn to look at the girl next to me, the one who frowned when I sat at the end of her bench. She’s swearing, and she’s got one hand cupped underneath her nose, which is streaming blood. No, not streaming—gushing.
“Are you okay?” I ask, grabbing a pile of napkins from the freshman at the opposite end of the table. As I do, I notice that my palm is glowing.Oh god, what did I do?
“I’m fine,” she says, grabbing a fistful of napkins from me and mopping up her chin and upper lip. “I think—I think it’s over, actually? That was so weird, I never …”
I don’t catch the rest of what she’s saying, because I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. When I look over, Iris is standing up and putting her hand on Roya’s arm. Maryam is staring at the table, her face fixed, her gaze distant. Roya sinks back into her chair, her arms folded, and glares at thecop. Iris says something to Marcelina. Then she walks out of the cafeteria in front of the assistant principal, her posture defiant, high red ponytail swinging. She doesn’t turn back, doesn’t pause before leaving. She looks like a warrior.
The cop stays behind, saying something to Roya, who rolls her eyes. They exchange a few more words before the officer leaves. I finally let myself inhale. My breath comes as ragged as if I’d been drowning.
I don’t come to the table until she’s gone. Maybe I’m a coward, but I don’t think I could have kept my shit together in front of those handcuffs. In front of that gun.
“What was that about?” I ask as I hand my chips to Marcelina. Paulie gives me a Significant Look.
“They want to know about Josh,” she says.
“Why would they think Iris knows anything about Josh?” I ask, ripping foil off my burrito. My fingers tremble a little, but then Roya leans over and takes a huge bite right out of my hands, spilling rice all over me. I glare at her, and she winks, her cheeks bulging. “You’re gross,” I snap, my voice harsher than I want it to be.
“You wuff it,” she replies, her voice muffled by burrito. I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling, because … it’s Roya.
“The cop said that they found texts from Iris on Josh’s phone,” Maryam says, pulling Iris’s abandoned fries across the table with a shaky hand. “From the night of the party.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I say.
“Well, that’s not what the cop said,” Marcelina interjects.We all turn to look at her—Marcelina isn’t usually one to correct people, not unless it really matters. “Sorry,” she says, looking everywhere but at us. “It’s just that, well. Um.”
“It’s fine,” Maryam says, although she sounds irritated. “Go ahead.”
“Okay, well, what she said was that they found Josh Harper’s cell phone, and that there was evidence indicating that Iris had been in contact with him in the time adjacent to his disappearance, and that they wanted to discuss the situation further without disrupting her class schedule.” She’s talking fast, and her voice rises with every new clause. “And then Roya said that they were disrupting her lunch, and that seemed more important than Iris missing Econ, and then—”
She trails off, red splotches rising on her chest.
“You okay?” Paulie asks softly.
“I don’t know,” Marcelina says. “Sorry.” Maryam’s face softens, and she watches Marcelina carefully. Roya lays the back of her hand against Marcelina’s forehead, maternal. Marcelina flinches away. “I’m fine,” she says. It’s a transparent lie, but we don’t push it. Marcelina will tell us when she’s ready. She always does.
“So what do you guys think Iris is going to tell them?” Paulie asks, expertly redirecting our attention. Marcelina gives her a grateful smile.
“Not a damn thing,” Roya says, reaching to the bottom of the french fry pile to extract an unsoiled wedge. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Paulie rolls her eyes. “Okay, but they’re going to ask if she knows where Josh is, and—”
“And she doesn’t,” Roya interrupts. “None of us do. We all know wheresomeof Josh is,” she adds in an undertone, “but none of us are ever going to know whereallof Josh is.”
“Except me,” I murmur.
“Except you,” Marcelina says through a mouthful of fries.
“Speaking of,” Roya says, reaching for my burrito, “are you doing anything tonight?”
“What? Tonight? Why?” I see Marcelina and Maryam exchange eye rolls. They start talking to each other about some makeup trick they want to try, and Paulie joins in on the conversation, even though she almost never wears anything beyond lip balm. And just like that, Roya and I are alone in the middle of the cafeteria. She watches me with raised eyebrows. “I mean, yeah, why?”
“I want to go to the reservoir,” Roya says around a large bite of my lunch. A piece of rice is caught in the divot of her top lip, and she flicks out the tip of her tongue to get it. I steal a sip of Paulie’s water, but it doesn’t make my mouth feel any less dry.
“Sure,” I say. “To, uh … take care of a thing?”
“Yeah,” Roya says. “To take care of a thing. You walked today, right? I can drive us there after sixth period.”
“Okay,” I say, and then Paulie is asking me a question about makeup that I don’t know the answer to, and the moment’s over. Under the table, Roya’s foot brushes against mine, and Paulie has to repeat herself three times before I answer.
