by Chad Morris
“For this project,” Mrs. Brunner said, holding up a worksheet on photosynthesis, “I want you to work with a partner.”
This was a perfect opportunity. “You can propose who you might work with,” Mrs. Brunner continued, “but I can either approve or deny it. Once approved, you can move desks to easily work together. Both of you read the chapter and double-check one another’s answers.”
I took a deep breath and raised my hand. I hadn’t done that in any of my classes for a very long time.
Even with my sunglasses on I could see a small look of surprise on Mrs. Brunner’s face, but she raised one finger to indicate for me to wait. “Hopefully between the two of you, you can make sure you get them all right.” She looked down at me. “Flint.”
Was I really going to do this? I was surprised when the words came out. “Can I work with McKell?” I asked, my hand still raised.
A few oohs echoed around the class, everyone assuming I liked her. I didn’t really care.
“That should be fine,” Mrs. Brunner said. In fact, she might have even given me a slight smile. “As long as it’s okay with her.” She looked over at McKell, who nodded. She didn’t smile and wave or anything, but she did nod.
I knew everyone was looking at me. Part of me wanted to play it cool, but I was actually kind of proud of myself. I almost always had to take whoever was left over after everyone else was paired up with their friends. Today, maybe I had a friend.
Once Mrs. Brunner let us move around, I went and sat next to McKell.
“You saw it, didn’t you?” she said, her eyes wide.
It took me a second. “His post?” I nodded enthusiastically. “How did he do that?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Crazy, huh?” She seemed a little better today. Maybe a little happier. Maybe it was good for her to see her brother again. She held up the assignment paper. “Let’s do this.”
“Before we start, I have a question for you,” I said, “Do you want to watch a comedy with me? You can pick it. I don’t even care which one it is. I just think you should . . . I mean, I want to . . . you know—”
She cut me off. “No.” She looked at the worksheet like it was a final exam and she had better get all of the answers right.
Maybe she wasn’t doing better.
The comedy was Danny’s challenge. He wanted his followers to gather up with their friends and watch something funny. To talk and laugh. And if we talked about him, his rule was that we’d have to tell the fun stories. No crying allowed. It was supposed to be a night of remembering the happy, the good memories. He even listed a few of his favorite comedies as suggestions. I thought that might be nice for McKell.
“C’mon,” I said. I had some leftover money from my birthday and could get us both into the second-run theater. I might even have enough left over for popcorn.
“No,” McKell said. “I just don’t . . .”
I thought she might not want to. She did say that she wasn’t doing the challenges anymore. I reached into my portfolio, pulled out a piece of paper and slapped it on her desk, cutting her off. I almost couldn’t believe I did it. I mean, it was my plan, but I actually did it.
She looked at it and back to me. I took my sunglasses off so I could see her better.
“What’s this?” she asked. “Your comic?”
“And it’s terrible,” I said.
“It’s not terrible—” she started.
“Yes, it is,” I said. “I thought I was almost as good as a real comic-book artist, but everything is off. Now that I can really see, I—” I stopped talking. I swallowed to stop that weird thing that starts coming up my throat when I tear up. Nobody was supposed to cry in science. Unless we’re dissecting frogs. And today we weren’t dissecting frogs.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but you’re being too hard on yourself. It really is good.”
“Not good enough,” I said. “I can’t win any contest with this.”
She looked at my comic and back at me. “You don’t know that. You might as well—”
“That’s not the point,” I said. “Even if I don’t like them, do you remember our deal?”
McKell got really quiet and looked at me. There was a serious argument going on behind her eyes.
“How about I finish my comic if you finish Danny’s challenges?” She raised her hand to interrupt me, but I kept talking. I learned that from Grandpa. “And I know you’ve got the harder end, but after all my surgery and recovery and stuff, I’ve only got a week. I’m going to have to draw like crazy. Stay up late, the whole works. But I’ll do my part if you’ll do yours.”
She looked at me.
“And I’ll help you with your challenges,” I added.
She started to shake her head again.
I reached into my portfolio case and took out another picture. I’d stayed up late getting it done. McKell stared at it for several seconds.
I had drawn a girl in a punching stance completely covered in diamond. Each muscle looked like it was part of an impenetrable stone. “She’s invincible,” I said. McKell kept staring. “And I need your help.”
She looked up at me, then back down at my drawing.
“Please,” I said.
Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath then she started to nod. “Okay, but we’ll switch it,” she said.
I raised one eyebrow. “You’re going to start drawing comics?”
“No.” She smiled a little. Microscopic but it was there. “My parents already are planning on watching a comedy with all of Danny’s friends at our house tomorrow night. It’s their way of doing his challenge. But I told them I wasn’t going to. I planned to stay in my room. I’ll tell them yes, if you’ll come over,” she said.
“Definitely,” I said, gathering up my comic sheets before anyone else could see them.
She took another deep breath. “Deal,” she said.
“Here it is,” Grandpa said, pulling up to a rather new two-story house. It had a gate, a fountain, and a few trees with bushes surrounding them. Every light in the house was on and cars filled the driveway and were parked along the road. Grandpa pulled in behind the cars in the driveway.
“Do you see 1367 written on the house?” Grandma asked, checking the address again.
“No, but this is it,” Grandpa said. He was right. I saw the numbers. The houses in her neighborhood looked like millionaires lived there. McKell lived in a different world than I did.
“What if you get one of your headaches?” Grandma asked. “Or if your eyes start hurting?”
“He has his phone, right?” Grandpa asked.
I leaned forward from the back seat and showed her my phone. “I’ll be fine. McKell’s parents are here. We’re watching a movie and hanging out. There really isn’t anything to worry about.”
Grandma stared at the house out the window. “You’ll wear your glasses, right?”
“Yep.” I would wear my eyeglasses with only one lens, but I had every intention of taking off my stupid sunglasses when I got in the house. Who wore sunglasses inside, at night, watching a movie? Besides, the doctor had said to wear the sunglasses for two weeks and the two weeks were over. I still had light sensitivity outside in the sun or sometimes under fluorescent lights, like at the grocery store, but most of the time I was okay without them.
Grandpa turned and spoke over his shoulder, “You better get out before your grandma locks the doors.”
“Oh, stop it,” Grandma said, hitting Grandpa’s arm playfully with the back of her hand.
I jumped out.
“Be safe,” Grandma shouted out the window. “I love you.”
“He’ll be fine,” Grandpa said.
I turned to the house. I could hear hip-hop music beating and people talking as I made my way from the dark sidewalk to the glowing front porch. The crowd was a li
ttle intimidating, but I rang the doorbell anyway. The door opened and noise, light, and warmth hit me all at once. McKell stood there, her hair down around her face. She looked more relaxed than I had ever seen her at school.
“Come in,” she said. “It’s almost time for the movie.” She grabbed my forearm and pulled me inside the house. I’m not sure, but I thought it was an I’m-happy-to-see-you pull in, and not a I’m-embarrassed-to-be-seen-with-you pull in. That was good. We’d talked a couple of times after science, but she still ate lunch with Gavin, Travis, Emma, and Chloe. I didn’t know why. Maybe habit. I mean, they teased her like they teased everyone. As McKell closed the front door, I heard the old Nissan drive away. I took off my sunglasses and shoved them in a pocket.
“Sorry, you’ll have to take off your shoes,” McKell said. “House rules.” She pointed to a shelf that had orderly rows of shoes stacked on every available surface and a huge pile of shoes on the floor next to it.
I sat down, careful not to do any damage to the pressure in my eye and slipped off my shoes. “There are a lot of people here,” I said, pointing at all the other shoes.
“Yeah,” she said. “My brother made a lot of friends. A bunch of them came out from Grand Island where we used to live.” The house was well decorated. I looked up at a large wooden fork and spoon on the wall. The idea of someone eating with them made me smile.
“Isn’t Grand Island like an hour away?” I asked, putting my shoes on the edge of the pile, hoping I could find them again. I’d heard of the city, but never been there. I did know it was definitely not an actual island.
“Yeah,” she said, leading the way down the hall. “An hour and a half, actually.”
Wow. People came from an hour and a half away to watch a movie because of Danny. Impressive. There is no way my grandparents would use that kind of gas money and that much time driving unless it was super special.
This must be super special.
“I almost thought you weren’t going to make it,” McKell said. The hall opened up to a great room. There were people in the kitchen, at the table, sitting on the counter, a group of girls sitting cross-legged on the floor, chatting. On the other side was a large living space. People sat on all parts of the couches and chairs, a group of what looked like cousins and aunts and uncles were singing karaoke in a corner, and teenagers were downing plates of food around the coffee table. Even more people came from a back hallway I assumed led to bedrooms or a bathroom. There were old people and a few small kids, but mostly teens. If I were to guess, there must have been more than fifty people.
McKell led me to the kitchen island that was covered in dishes of food. Cooked veggies, meat in red sauce, fried chicken or something, spaghetti with sliced hot dogs, pasta salad, and a huge dish of rice. “Eat up,” she said. “Most of these people have already finished and we still have enough food to feed the whole school.”
“I ate before I came,” I explained. It smelled really good, even though some of it looked a little different than what I’m used to.
“I’m sorry,” McKell said. “I should have told you that we would have food. We’ll have to send some home with you, then. We’re going to have way too much left over. If you ever come over again for a party, come hungry. We’ll always have lots of food.”
A boy who looked a couple of years older than us made his way over to McKell and gave her a big hug. “Man, it’s good to see you, Mickey.” The hug lasted a while, so I studied the small egg rolls on the plate like I was very interested in them.
Mickey? Oh. McKell, Mickey. I guess it worked.
“Good to see you too,” McKell said. She pulled away, but he kept his arm across her shoulder and she kept an arm around his waist. “Squint, this is Yellow,” she introduced me. I had never met this guy, but I’d heard that name before.
Yellow offered his free hand. “Your name is as strange as mine.” He had fluffy black hair and a long nose. “Yellow is my last name.”
I shook his hand. “Squint’s just a nickname,” I said. “Bad eyes.” I gestured toward my one-lensed glasses. “You edited Danny’s videos,” I said.
“We have a subscriber to the channel here,” Yellow said, pointing down at me while pretending to be making an announcement to everyone else in the house.
I nodded. “They look good. Nice work.”
McKell smiled really big. “Squint doesn’t really talk to people, let alone compliment them. You should feel honored.”
What? That wasn’t true.
Was it?
“But he is a really good comic-book artist,” McKell added. She set me up for a fist bump.
I bumped my fist into hers, realizing that this was the first time anyone had ever introduced me as a great artist. It felt . . . I don’t know. I didn’t agree with her. My comics still needed a lot of work, but it felt nice to hear the compliment.
I noticed a small table that was set up against the wall with a picture of Danny, thick white candles flickering on both sides, and a Cornhuskers ball cap resting in front. It was the same hat that Danny wore in his videos. Nobody in my family had ever died, at least no one that I’d known, but I wondered if this table was something that only McKell’s family did or if my grandparents would do it for a loved one as well.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming,” a loud deep voice boomed from the kitchen. Everyone hushed and I turned around to find a tall, dark-skinned man with a hipster beard, trendy glasses, and tailor-made clothes. I bet it was McKell’s dad. “Danny was always full of surprises, but this is the winner. I don’t know how he posted that last challenge, but I’m glad he did. It is great to see you all somewhere other than his funeral.” He got choked up a little but didn’t stop. “None of that,” he corrected himself. “Danny’s rules.”
Some people chuckled.
“Thank you,” McKell’s dad continued, “for being great friends and family to our boy.” He cleared his throat. “The movie choice for tonight is a classic. The Princess Bride. Danny loved it, even if his mother didn’t.”
The crowd chuckled again.
“Still don’t!” McKell’s mom said from behind us. Everyone laughed a little harder. She was tall and slender like McKell but had pale skin, lighter than mine, and her brown hair almost had some red in it. I could see how McKell got some features from both of her parents.
I’d seen the movie before. It was pretty good. I mean, it wasn’t one of the Captain Americas, or Avengers, or one of the Thors, but it was still good.
“I’m going to warm up the projector. We still have plenty of food. If you want movie treats, there are pretzels and soda for everyone. Danny was allergic to corn, so we’re more of a soft pretzel family. In honor of my crazy, popcorn-less, slapstick-loving son, let’s watch a comedy.”
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Under the direction of McKell’s mom, they scooted the couches back and people started filling in the floor space like kids at an elementary school assembly. I was way off on my numbers—this had to be more than fifty. We weren’t going to fit very well.
If I died and my grandparents had a party for me, hardly anyone would show up. Maybe my mom, maybe not. And maybe McKell. Danny, that boy with the bald head, knew some things I hadn’t figured out yet.
Someone had pulled the dining table behind the couches and people were sitting in the chairs and on the tabletop. McKell motioned for me to join her in a corner. It wasn’t in front, but we could lean against a wall and still see.
I overheard some girl talking about how Danny had sent her the nicest text after she’d had the most terrible day. A boy added that Danny always called him “Mr. Fantastic.” He said his coach had called him that at a game and Danny’d heard it.
The movie started and the noise died down.
The projection on the wall was huge. I saw more expression on the actors’ faces than I ever remembered seeing before. I loved the
separation of colors. They didn’t all bleed together. And their eyes—eyes could tell a story by themselves. I didn’t usually notice that. Eventually, the man in the mask chased after the princess, fighting against the sword champion until he was backed into a wall. Then the famous line: “I am not left-handed.” He switched hands and started to win. I saw it coming, but laughed anyway.
McKell’s arm leaned against mine a little. Had she done that on purpose? I looked over at her, but she stared forward. It was crowded and we were all a little squished together. It really wasn’t a big deal. Well, I didn’t think so. Okay, I wasn’t sure. But probably not. But it looked like she was trying not to notice me, but she really did. That’s a thing, right? Looking but not looking? And I could see it. A few weeks ago, I would have completely missed it. This new eye was incredible. If only my other one was as good.
“Thanks for coming,” McKell whispered.
“Sure thing,” I said. “And you already said that.”
“I know,” she said. It was kind of hard to hear her over the movie. She never would have said this stuff at school.
Middle-School Rule: People act differently when they don’t think everyone is watching them.
“I didn’t invite Gavin, and Travis, and Chloe, and Emma,” she said. “I didn’t want to. They wouldn’t have wanted to come. This isn’t exactly a popular-kid party.”
I nodded. She was probably right.
“But,” I said, looking around. “There are a lot of people here. Maybe Danny’s just a different kind of popular.”
McKell nodded and looked around.
“I need more friends like you,” McKell whispered. “Like these people.” She offered me the rest of her oversized pretzel and I took it.
On the screen, the man in the mask faced the giant. He must have said something funny because everyone erupted in laughter again. I missed it.
Before the noise died down, the show flicked off. In a flash, we were all staring at a blank wall in the darkness.
“What happened?” someone asked.
“Electrical problem?”
“No. I think Mr. Panganiban turned it off.”
