“As long as Norah’s out in the world, it’ll be a constant battle,” she told Dad, even though I was sitting right there on the examining table. Dr. Glickstein never talked about me as if I weren’t there, but he was busy seeing some kid who was “having an emergency,” Dr. Choi explained. So I was being seen by a doctor who’d never even met me before this very minute, and didn’t know the first thing about my personality.
“Is Norah getting enough rest?” she asked Dad.
“YES, I AM,” I answered.
“Because that’s the most important thing. If she’s run-down, she’s much more vulnerable to whatever virus is going around the school.”
“I KNOW.”
“Would she agree to wearing a surgical mask in the halls?”
“Wait,” I exploded. “You’re asking Dad if I would wear a mask? Every time I switched classes? You should ask me.”
Dr. Choi blinked. “I beg your pardon, Norah. A surgical mask is one solution, yes. Another would be leaving class five minutes early, just to reduce the number of germs you’re in contact with in the hallway every time the bell rings.”
Dad glanced at me, nodding. “All right, thanks, Dr. Choi. We’ll discuss it.”
On the ride home, I informed Dad that I absolutely refused to wear a mask. Not a surgical mask, not a Halloween mask, not a hockey mask. No mask, period. As for the five-minute thing, maybe. Maybe. I’d think about it.
Dad sighed. “Norah, it’s not really up to you.”
“Who’s it up to, then?”
“No comment.”
“You? Mom? But it’s my body! And I’m sick of people talking about it as I’m not even there!”
Before he could say anything to defend Dr. Choi, I added: “I hate this, Dad. Why can’t I just go to school and have a regular, boring, normal life like everyone else?”
Dad reached over and rubbed my arm. “Because the evil Luke Emia still has his eye on you, baby. And he’s mad that you’ve been giving him the slip.”
* * *
I stayed home from school the rest of that week, and the whole week after that. Mom flew home for the weekend, just to make sure I didn’t need to be in the hospital, she said—even though Dr. Choi said I should rest at home. The whole time Mom was here, she kept unbunching towels and Lysoling everything, almost as if she was accusing Dad of making me sick with his germy surfaces. And the funny thing was how Nicole didn’t stay away for Mom’s sake. It was like they’d come to some kind of agreement—about me, apparently.
In the middle of the second week, Harper came over after school to give me notes.
“Aren’t you missing Afterschool?” I asked her.
Harper shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m happy to get a day off from Astrid.” She described how she’d put up her mural—carefully, over four afternoons—only for Astrid to insist she take the whole thing down.
“Why?”
“Same old criticism. It doesn’t ‘communicate.’ I feel like communicating with her.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Because what good would it do? She’s still in charge. She’s still horrible. Oh, and by the way, I saw your boyfriend.”
“What?” My heart bounced like a Super Ball. “You mean Griffin?”
“Yep. Astrid told him we were friends in Art Club or something, so he gave me this for you.” From her backpack she pulled out a folded-up piece of paper, all taped shut. A note mummy.
She waited for me to open it. When she saw I wasn’t going to, at least not in front of her, she smiled. “Also, Ms. Castro wants to know if you need anything, and Ms. Farrell says hi. Aria and Cait say get better soon. And Silas wants to know when you’re coming back.”
“Really? What does he care?”
“He said he wants to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“You’re asking me?” She tapped on my friendship bracelet, the one she’d given me when I first went into the hospital. “Hey, you’re still wearing it.”
“Of course. I never take it off. You’re my best friend, Harper.”
“And you’re mine.” She threw her arms around me, and I didn’t even care that she was full of germs. Because they were best-friend germs, the kind that make you feel better.
“Sorry I’ve been so weird about things,” I said into her hair.
“That’s okay,” Harper replied. “You have the right to be weird. For a few more weeks, anyway.”
“A few more weeks? What if I’m not finished by then?”
“Joking. Take all the time you need.” She pulled away, smiling. “But really, Norah, come back to school soon. Stuff keeps happening and you should be there with me, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, smiling back at her.
* * *
As soon as Harper left, I untaped Griffin’s message. He’d drawn a messy octopus next to a bad cyclops. Underneath, written in green gel pen, it said:
MISS U.
, GRIFFIN
PINK
Mom said she refused to let me go back to school the next Monday without looking me over in person, so she flew back to New York for the second straight weekend. I argued that it was completely unnecessary and a waste of money, but she insisted. Anyway, I told myself, Demeter would have done the same thing for Persephone, and there was no point arguing with a fierce Greek goddess.
As soon as she walked into the house, she gave her expert diagnosis. “Norah, you still look a bit iffy. Greg, doesn’t Norah look iffy to you?”
“Well . . . ,” Dad began.
“Maybe if you rested at home just a few more days—”
“NO,” I answered. By then I was demented with boredom, and why couldn’t Persephone could be just as fierce as Demeter? “That’s impossible, Mom! If I’m tired at school, I’ll just rest on my cot. But I’m going back on Monday. I have to.”
Mom looked at Dad, who shrugged like I give up. Then Nicole brought me a mug of tea, basically announcing that now there were three grown-ups paying attention to me, so I’d better not try anything funny, young lady.
And the four of us had a really nice weekend, actually.
