Paper cranes.

My heart is beating loudly in my ear. It's faster than what I was taught is normal. I can tell that much.

I feel I am about to throw up.

I want to throw up, so bad, somewhere I feel it somehow will fix the heartbeat.

It will fix everything.

It will fix whatever is broken.

It’s not logical I know, but I stopped taking comfort in understanding a long time ago.

Understanding just hurts.

Knowing just hurts.

I want to be a kid again.

I want to stop knowing.

I want to stop understanding.

I wish he would leave.

I wish I could go back to this morning.

When I did not know.

When I did not understand. When my biggest problem was that our cat was meowing too loud.

I miss it.

I wish our cat would meow loud enough to block out my heartbeat, loud enough to stop him from talking. But he keeps going.

He won't stop.

Why won't he stop?

He keeps explaining what happened.

What happened to her.

Why Violet will never be back.

But I have stopped listening.

I will cry. But the tears won’t come.

I wish I could cry. I want to know if there is any feeling left in me.

But I can't. So I walk upstairs, to my bathroom, and throw up.

But I do not feel better.

I HATE HER.

The words pound in my head.

I HATE HER.

I'm being irrational.

I HATE HER.

It's not her fault.

I HATE HER.

The tears are coming, now I try to stop them.

Now I'm afraid if I start crying I will never stop.

I look at the girl in the mirror.

I don't recognize her, but Violet would've known, she would’ve hugged me, and told me a bad joke, and made me a paper crane.

A paper crane.

I run to my room and take out a piece of paper, I start folding like Violet taught me. This way and that. My violently shaking hands work as fast as they can. I finish, it's not as neat as hers are but I reach for another paper. My breaths are shallow, I'm still choking over tears I refuse to release. We usually write something on the paper before we start folding, usually a worry, or something we want to float away.

But I can't bring myself to do it.

Me writing it means it's true.

It means it happened.

It means she's gone.

By the 3rd crane, it looks less like a crane and more like a boat, my hands are shaking too much for me to grip the paper, and my vision is blocked by tears.

But I keep going.

Maybe it will stop being true.

Why is my mom standing in my doorway with her hands covering her mouth and tears in her eyes?

Why does she keep saying sorry?

Why is she hugging me?

Why don’t I ever know anything?

Why do my questions not have answers?

Do my questions even have answers?

It is the next morning. My head hurts, and my eyes are closing, but I refuse to let myself sleep. It's light outside, in a while my alarm will ring, and I will get up, have breakfast, change my clothes, and Violet will pick me up and we will walk together to our school. She will translate my sign language to our other friends.They are trying to learn so they can understand me.

But my alarm does not ring.

And I do not get up.

Mom must have turned it off, hoping I would sleep. For her sake, I will tell her I did. I look out my window and see that our car is not in the driveway. Mom is on duty. I want to be angry, but I know deep inside what she’s doing is more important. I am mad at myself for thinking that. I turn my head on my damp pillowcase, I instantly regret it. On my side table is a framed picture.

I get angry.

I slam my hand into the frame and it flies across the room. Shards of glass sink into my carpet.

I can't believe what I have just done. Violet gave me that for my birthday. How will she react to me shattering it into a million pieces?

I quickly walk to the spot in my carpet and pick up the photo. It's a rare one in which both of us are relatively still. I am sticking my tongue out and Violet is giving me bunny ears. We are wearing the matching bracelets I made for us. Mine says Violet and hers says Mia. It's from when we went bowling on her 14th birthday. In one week she turns 15. I think of what I will get for her. I walk outside my room and see my older brother standing beside my doorframe. I wonder why he is up so early. He says

“Im sorry”

And tries to give me a hug. He doesn't ruffle my hair.

He's being serious.

I don’t like it.

So I make a paper crane.

Simon is being serious,

is written inside it.

I eat breakfast, and get ready.

Simon doesn't bother to tell me it’s a Saturday in spring break until I'm at our front door. Even then he says it so quietly I barely hear him, he’s looking at me weird. It is worse than him being annoying.

That's ok, I will call Violet over at 2, since it is Saturday, she is sure to be asleep. I sign it to Simon:

“Can you phone Mrs Parker, and ask her if Violet is free at 2?”

He says nothing.

He keeps looking at me weird.

His eyes are full of tears that are dangerously close to falling.

I wish he would stop. Simon never cries. Simon sulks, but he never cries.

But he’s crying now?

Why is he crying? So I ask him:

“It's ok Simon, why are you crying?”

He just nods and cries more.

Seeing him cry makes me want to cry. But I stay strong. I stay strong for Simon.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Mia”

I make out of his stifled sobs. Why is he saying sorry?

What has he done?

Why is everyone saying sorry?

I give him a hug. I don’t pinch him so he knows I'm being serious.

I don’t think he likes it. He just cries more, and he keeps telling me he’s sorry.

and now his sorry is on my shirt.

After he is done. I ask him;

“Do you want to make a paper crane?”

He knows what that means. He says

“Yes.”

We are folding paper on the dining table, written on mine is

Simon is crying

He hides what is written on his.

I ask;

“Why?, what is it?”

He only smiles sadly, and shakes his head.

I decide I will read it later. I want to know why my brother is sad.

It's getting late. Mom should be back from her night shift. She is one hour late.

I ask Simon. He tells me it must be the traffic.

I can tell it’s not the traffic.

I can tell he’s lying to me.

I push him. He doesn't push me back.

Simon before yesterday would have pushed me back.

What does that mean?

I don't want to know.

I am annoyed at Simon. So I read his paper crane.

It does not help the annoyance.

It makes me angry.

Violet is gone, and my sister is sad.

I want to yell at him.

I want to yell harmful words at him.

But I can’t.

Why would he say that?

Why would he make it true?

I crumple the paper, walk over to him, and throw it in his face.

I am not sad.

I have no reason to be sad.

I have to be strong. For Simon. For Mom.

Mom is home in time to see me punching Simon. I am punching and punching and punching his shoulder.

He does not punch back.

I do not realize I am crying.

A lot.

But I keep punching.

I catch Mom and Simon sharing a worried look.

What are they worried about?

Mom holds my shoulders while I am still punching Simon.

“It's okay.”

She whispers.

She is crying too.

My arm is getting tired.

And I cannot breathe.

But I am angry.

“It's okay.”

She whispers again.

It is not ok.

I want to scream it to her.

IT. IS. NOT. OKAY.

But I can’t.

I CAN’T SAY IT TO HER.

I CAN’T TELL HER IT’S NOT OKAY.

HOW IS SHE GOING TO KNOW IT’S NOT OKAY?

THERE IS NOTHING ABOUT THIS TO BE OKAY.

My best friend.

Is gone.

Not on holiday.

She is dead.

She is not coming back.

No.

I made it true.

It’s my fault.

I go up to my room.

And lock the door.

And I cry.

And I cry.

And I cry.

Mom cannot see me like this.

Simon cannot see me like this.

It will kill them.

They cannot know it's my fault.

They can not know I made it true.

I am doing a bad job at being strong.

3 DAYS PRIOR:

Mom's question of the week is on the fridge.

What makes us human?

It's a stupid question.

My brain, my lungs, my heart.

But I know that is not what my mother wants.

I don’t know why I have to answer this. But I have a week. Maybe the answer will come to me miraculously.

Violet is at her grandmother's place. She will be back the day after next.

Maybe I will ask Violet.

Maybe she will know.

PRESENT:

I have come out of my room.

It is the next evening.

I was in my room for 16 hours.

I counted.

I have decided I am ready to face Simon and Mom.

I made countless paper cranes before making this decision.

I do not want to make them cry again.

I have to be strong.

For them.

But first. I am hungry.

Very hungry.

I open the fridge to get a glass of milk, and I untie the bread. I spread peanut butter on one piece of bread and Raspberry jam on one piece. I wish it was strawberry.

Raspberry was Violet's favorite.

She did not like strawberry.

She winced at the seeds.

I want to cry.

I am not going to cry.

If I were to cry in front of Violet this often. She would tell me to stop being a baby, I would push her. And she would pretend to be hurt.

I remember the last thing she said to me;

“It’s only 2 days, but try not to miss me too much Mia!”

I am trying.

It is not working.

But I will keep trying.

Violet would not want me to cry,

She would not want me to be sad.

That, I am sure of, even before Mom tells me.

When I am on the dining table, I look up at her eyes.

They are red and puffy.

Because of me.

Because I have done a bad job in being strong.

It is my turn to be sorry.

“I’m so sorry Mom, I never wanted you or Simon to be sad, I tried my best. Really, I did!.”

After I am done signing, I hold out my pinkie finger,

pinky promise.

I mouth.

But that makes her cry.

I have done it again.

But they’re happy tears.

And now she’s hugging me.

And I am crying again.

3 DAYS LATER:

I found out where Mom went that day.

She went to Violet's funeral.

And she did not take me.

I do not mind.

I did not want to go.

I know that Violet will understand why.

Thinking about her still hurts as much as it did that day.

I think about it all the time and I want to cry.

But I think of Simon.

And I think of Mom.

I know if I cry. They will too.

I do not want to see them cry.

Over the past few days, I have made an absurd amount of paper cranes.

I decide today is the day they will float away.

I sign to Simon to take me to the lake.

He is being nice lately.

So I take advantage of it.

At the lake I release all my cranes, one by one.

It is a lot.

That is not a good thing.

But I feel better.

Before we leave I realize I have forgotten something.

I scribble on a piece of paper, And make a crane;

Violet is gone.

I pretend that my beating heart is the sound of a crane flying away.

I pretend that it is flying away with Violet.

It is sad.

It breaks my heart.

But I know I did not make it true,

And I know it is not my fault.

And I know Violet would be happy to know that.

We walk back into the house.

Mom's stupid question is still on the fridge

What makes us human?

I think for a minute.

My brain, my lungs, my heart.

What makes me human?

I think again.

Simon. Mom. Violet.

I have to be strong.

For Simon.

For Mom.

For Violet.