Because the turmoil that Ellis had been thrown into, the schedule of our regular activities was shaken: by the Tuesday after Gabe’s death, some of the decorations from the previous Friday’s pep rally were still up. That Tuesday was also game day for the volleyball team, and when I had run into her in the hall that morning, Isabel had asked me to help her Tuesday evening to clean up the debris of the pep rally and the game. Her asking for my help was one of several ploys to reach out to me; I could tell she had been putting forth effort to connect with me ever since Wade’s death. It was done sincerely, but it seemed naive to me—she chooses now to notice me after years of growing up together. Nevertheless, I didn’t like the eerie silence that accompanied Wade’s absence, so I indulged in her pursuits.

I sat in the cafeteria with my bags, waiting for Isabel to show up so we could walk to the gym together. She came around the corner, messy-haired and tired-eyed. The past few weeks had taken a toll on her, and you could tell that she had seen better days. Still, her brown eyes were bright and smiling as ever. She was naturally equipped with a soul that was meant to carry weight like this. Her heart was strong and gentle at the same time; she was genuine and likable and humble altogether. Even now, she was the perfect face of grief—all respect and living in Wade’s honor and carrying on his legacy and whatnot. However, her hamartia shone through her poster-child charm glaringly when she was stretched as thin as she was over those two weeks: she took such great care of everyone around her that she left no time for her or anyone else to care for her own needs. Of course, I didn’t know this for sure, seeing as it would contradict the very point if she would’ve sought my help with this problem. I drew this conclusion through the fact that she and Wade were so similar in every other aspect of their charming, helpful personalities that they probably also shared in this flaw. Lack of self-care was one of Wade’s biggest and only demons, and one late night a few years back he had sought my help with it over an emotional conversation. He came to me after a particularly difficult week in his life had set loose the unwanted emotions that had been fermenting inside of him for years at that point. That night is an example of the side of a person that nobody realizes except a brother. No one but me saw Wade for what he was: a flawed human with unattended problems boiling inside. Wade came to me that night and confessed to his negligence towards his own feelings, and he left in tears. And the next morning, he woke up, hugged me, thanked me, and walked into school with a smile on his face that didn’t show a care in the world. This is another example of his compatibility with Isabel. They were the kind of high schoolers who appeared unstoppable. They were simultaneously counselors, leaders, listeners, and teachers. And wrapped up in all their purity, hidden away so no one could see, was a bundle of burdens and dilemmas that had been abandoned for years. That afternoon, given the time I’d be spending with her, I decided to test this inference I had made about my brother’s girlfriend.

I stood up as she walked towards me. She said “hey” and gave me a quick hug. “Do you wanna come to my locker with me? I need to get my stuff.”

I nodded and picked up my backpack. We walked mostly in silence, save a short conversation between Isabel and a passing teacher. When we got to Isabel’s locker, she opened it and some papers and pens tumbled out. She sighed and picked them up off the ground, balancing her books and supplies precariously in her arms. I offered my help and took a few things from her as she thanked me. As we made our way back to the gym, I made conversation, talking over the familiar anxious voice in the back of my head trying to deter me from social interaction. “So how are you holding up?” I cut right to the chase.

She gave me a strange look, like she wasn’t expecting me to initiate a conversation—this expectation was, in all honesty, understandable—and then the look softened into a grateful smile. “I’m doing okay. It’s the best I can do what with everything that’s happened, you know? I think if I can just lay low for a while and let myself breathe a second, I’ll be okay. I mostly just worry about the fact that it’s senior year, you know?” Some of my nerves calmed. The one question had gotten the conversation much further than I was expecting. “I’m getting behind on some things, and Mia and I are still in competition for valedictorian, you know, and … oh, my gosh. That sounds awful. I don’t mean it like Wade,” her voice shook a little, “like Wade’s death is an inconvenience or anything. It’s just hard because people still expect as much from you as they always do, and you had enough expectations to live up to before all of this happened, and people say that they “understand” and they’re “so sorry” but they don’t care enough to give you a break and if they do, it just ends up feeling like they’re babying you, but I can handle this, it’s just really hard.” She took a deep breath and blinked tears back. “Sorry. Oh, my gosh. I’m a mess, sorry.”

I wasn’t hardly able to follow what she was saying by the end of her ramble, but the idea was very clear. There was a dull pang in my heart at the idea that things didn’t look like they were going to get better for Isabel very soon. In addition to this strange pain at the back of my heart, I felt a sense of responsibility for her. I suddenly wanted to look out for her; she was so vulnerable, and I felt it was my place to watch her back.

Nevertheless, I didn’t let any of this this show, instead awkwardly patting her shoulder. “You’ve always been strong. I’m sure you’ll get past this. I bet a million more horrible things could happen to you right now, and you’d still make it out better than me or anyone else would.” I smiled at her and then started. “I mean—not that I’m wishing terrible things on you, but I’m just saying … you could handle it.”

She laughed and sniffled. “Thanks, Taylor. I’m sorry I haven’t really ever been there for you. You meant so much to Wade, Taylor. More than you will ever know.” The same dull throb resurfaced. I pushed it down. “You’re a great guy. I really hope you’re doing okay. And, hey, you’re stronger than you think, too.”

I smiled nervously, and she laughed again. We were at the gym by this point, and I suddenly was searching for some distraction. I didn’t want to go into the gym. I couldn’t let Isabel go into the gym. This horrible, unfamiliar dread was twisting my stomach into knots. My pulse was racing. As familiar as I was with the feelings of paranoia and anxiety, I had developed a feel for when things were about to go wrong. It was more prevalent than it had hardly ever been now. My head spun with the idea of whatever inevitable, evil mystery Isabel was about to encounter. She grabbed the handle on the door. I wanted to scream at her to stop, to turn back, but my voice caught in my throat, and she opened the door.

There was silence at first; it felt like hours of it: a sickening, deadly pause of processing the sight in front of us. A gut-wrenching scream broke the quiet. I don’t know if it was hers or mine. I watched something shatter inside of Isabel. Her fragile strength that had been slowly building up was slammed to a halt. In the middle of the gym was a young girl, hung by her neck on a rope. She was swinging slightly from side to side with cold eyes and pale skin. She looked like a child in her position—helpless, tiny, and afraid—but a longer look revealed her identity. She was a freshman, a girl called Ana.

It was Isabel’s sister.

At the sight of her younger sibling, Isabel lost her balance and collapsed onto the bleachers, retching into the seats. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and looked up; her kind, tired eyes had become crazed and desperate. She lunged forward and ran at Ana’s body, but it was dangling above her head a few feet. She shuddered and sank to the ground, wailing a terrible plea to Ana, to God, to the whole world, it seemed. I suddenly noticed a janitor was standing stunned in the corner, and he snapped to reality and called for help wildly.

I felt like I was floating. The world was spinning in slow motion, and on repeat in my mind was the sight of Isabel’s devastated cry to Ana. I couldn’t move my feet. I stood blankly as principals, teachers, and students ran in, and as the paramedics and cops arrived and rushed everyone out of the gym. They escorted me to the side of the gym, and I drifted to where they directed me, watching as they lowered the young girl from the ceiling and her older sister clung to her lifeless body.

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