I grab Nadi by the sleeve before she’s out of my car. I lie in the dark for hours and hours, but I never fall asleep. I begged my mom to let me stay home sick today. I nod and say, “Of course,” but I don’t feel like talking. Nadia nods, and she says in a timid voice, “You too, okay?” “I’ll be fine.” As Nadia reaches into the backseat for her book bag, I say, “You know, there are supposed to be grief counselors here today. But now that she’s gone, I know it was true. That she didn’t hold so much sway, so much power over our school. Sometimes, when I was annoyed with her, I’d tell myself that Rennie wasn’t as big a force as she liked to think she was. I wonder, will school ever feel normal again, without Rennie here? I pull into a parking spot and watch for a second as everyone slowly marches into school. My body’s been cold since I heard the news. I’ve got the dial set to high, plus my heated seats are cranked. “Can you turn the heat down? It’s boiling in here.” Nadia tries to peel off her puffer jacket while keeping her seat belt buckled. We ride in silence, except for the swish, swish, swish of the wipers as they push the tiny snowflakes off my windshield. Today as I drive us, the radio stays off. Not the first day back at school since Rennie died. Sometimes, if they are doing a giveaway or contest, Nadia will call using both our cell phones at the same time to up her chances of winning.īut not today. I don’t think their banter is very funny, but I do like hearing the celebrity gossip. She actually laughs at the corny jokes they tell, at the slide-whistle sound effects. IF IT WERE A NORMAL day, Nadia and I would be listening to the local morning radio show.

Jenny han ashes to ashes