by Eric Walters
“Hello, Quinn. You have a question?” Miss Fernandez asked.
I had spaced out, so I was thrown, and I hesitated before starting. “Uh…it isn’t about this assignment. It’s about something new.”
“Please, go ahead.”
“I thought it would be nice if we could do something a bit more practical.”
“Go on.”
“I heard there’s a shortage of personal protective equipment. Masks.”
“I’ve heard that as well. What do you have in mind?”
“I thought that maybe we could make some masks.”
“I’m afraid that many of us don’t have a sewing machine or any skills.”
“You don’t need either of those. There are videos online about how to sew masks by hand. I even made one to try it out.”
I pulled it up and held it in front of the camera. Miss Fernandez did something with the controls, and suddenly my face and the mask were in the big square in the middle. Now I wished I had washed my hair.
“Wow, Quinn. I am very impressed.”
“There are patterns you can download, and it’s explained really well.”
“And what would we do with these masks?” Miss Fernandez asked.
“We could donate them to the staff at Vista Village Lodge. Reese’s grandmother lives there.”
“That makes it even more special. Reese, would you like that?” Miss Fernandez asked.
I knew Reese was on board because we’d already talked about it.
“I’d like that a lot,” Reese replied.
“All in favor of this project, please raise your hands,” Miss Fernandez said.
I saw a whole bunch of little electronic hands go up.
“Then it’s unanimous. We’ll work out the details. Now are there any more questions before we break for the day?…Yes, Isaac?”
I looked down at his square. What the heck was he wearing? Miss Fernandez began to laugh, and a new center square came on. It was somebody—it had to be Isaac—wearing a hockey goalie’s mask.
“I was wondering, would this work?” he asked.
Miss Fernandez was laughing louder, and I could see other people giggling and pointing.
“And if that didn’t work, how about this?” Isaac asked. He pulled off the goalie mask and replaced it with a Spider-Man mask.
I was laughing now, and I could hear other people chuckling as well. Miss Fernandez must have unmuted everybody’s microphones. It felt so good to hear their laughter, to share their joy. And for those few seconds it felt like we weren’t alone in our little electronic video squares and houses and apartments.
“Isaac, I have truly missed you,” Miss Fernandez said. “I’ve missed everyone. Thank you all for joining us today.”
Chapter Twelve
Reese and I sat on our bikes and waited as Isaac finished his chalk tally sheet. It had rained the night before—it had been raining a lot the last week. He traced over each of the strokes and then added today’s mark. It was day 36.
“Did you ever think it would last so long?” Reese asked.
“I don’t think anybody did. Who could have imagined any of this?”
Isaac looked up from his work. “Seven weeks ago, if you were wearing masks, sanitizing your hands fifteen times a day and washing your groceries when you came home, people would have thought it more than a little strange.”
“Now if you weren’t doing all those things it would be strange,” I said.
Isaac climbed on his bike, and we started off. “There are still some people who think this whole thing is ridiculous. My mother told me there’s going to be a protest in the park.”
“What are they protesting?” Reese asked.
“They think the virus is fake.”
“Fake? People are dying. How is that fake?” I asked.
“Some of them are business owners who want to reopen because they’re losing money. And others say they’d rather be dead than give up their freedom.”
“Lucky them. They might get their wish,” I said.
“They might also get a fine. Protesters who get too close to each other are going to get an $800 ticket for not practicing physical distancing.”
“Turn up ahead,” I said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
We came to our first stop. Jenna was sitting on her front lawn. She got up as we approached and waved hello. We yelled out greetings as we came to a stop, making sure we weren’t too close to her or each other. She looked pretty happy to see us. She held up a little plastic bag.
“How many?” Isaac asked.
“Seven.”
“Way to go, Jenna! Just leave the bag on the edge of the sidewalk,” Reese said.
She put it down and backed away. Reese was wearing clear latex gloves. She picked up the bag and put it into a big blue plastic box strapped to the back of her bike. This was the first stop of many. What had started with just our class had grown to include almost every student from every class in our whole grade.
“Do you three remember the last time we were all together?” I asked.
Nobody answered. I had to remind them. “We were planning the spring dance.”
“Hard to believe that was our biggest worry,” Jenna said. “Well, Isaac wasn’t that worried even then.”
“Like I said, it’s a dance. I could plan something like that in my sleep. Anyway, we have to get going,” Isaac said. “One stop down and another gazillion to go.”
“Raise your hand if you’re tired,” Reese said.
“I think I’m too tired to raise a hand,” Isaac replied.
“It was fun to see everybody,” I answered.
The best part about collecting masks had been visiting people in real life instead of in a Zoom session or on Facetime. I couldn’t believe how much I’d missed them all. Everybody had been excited to see us, and a bunch had even started crying. I’d almost starting crying a few times myself.
Now we were making our final stop. Vista Village Lodge. We could see that there were lots of people out on their balconies. They started to clap and cheer and whistle. A big handmade sign, painted in red on a white bedsheet, was draped over the front door. It read, Thank you, Switzerland Point Middle School Students!
We stopped and got off our bikes.
“Definitely worth the ride,” Isaac said. He pulled out his camera. “You two keep going. I want to get this on video.”
Reese unstrapped the plastic bin from her bike, and we walked toward the door. The cheers got louder. The door opened, and a woman in a nurse’s uniform, wearing a mask, came out. But there was another person with her. It was Reese’s grandmother! She was also wearing a mask.
Reese and I stopped with a safe distance between us. I knew that both of us weren’t far from tears. Reese put down the bin. “Here are the masks we made. So many students contributed.”
“We can’t thank you enough,” said the nurse. “This is so very kind of you.”
“It was the least we could do,” I said. “Thank you for all you’re doing to keep everyone safe.”
“Reese, darling, it’s so good to see you,” said her grandmother.
“You too, Gran. I just wish I could hug you, but you know I can’t.”
“You already gave everyone here the best hug you could,” the nurse said. “You kids are wonderful.”
The nurse started crying. And so did Reese. And so did I.
Chapter Thirteen
“It’s coming on again!” my mother yelled. She turned the sound up on the TV.
“Sometimes the worst of times brings out the best in people,” the announcer said.
The picture changed. It was the video shot by Isaac. He’d shared the footage in a Zoom session with our class and then put it up online. At first it was just kids from our grade and their parents viewing it, then the whole school. And then it was picked up by a local TV station. It jumped from 450 views to over 20,000 in two days. Now they kept showing it on the news.
“And that’s Quinny
and Reese’s Pieces.” Isaac’s voice could be heard as we walked toward the door. “The names sound like a couple of chocolate bars. Which makes sense, since they are two of the sweetest girls you’ll ever meet.”
I’d heard it a dozen times, but I still smiled. Thank goodness he’d gone with Quinny instead of Q-Ball or Q-Tip or one of the other half dozen names he had for me.
“Quinny had the idea to make the masks, and that older woman who just came out with the nurse, that’s Reese’s grandmother,” Isaac could be heard saying.
The screen showed us walking to a spot a safe distance from the entrance and Reese putting down the blue bin.
“Our whole class made masks to give to the staff and residents of Vista Village. Big shout-out to Miss Fernandez, our wonderful teacher, all the eighth-grade students of Switzerland Point Middle School—go, Panthers, go—and our principal, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“And now you see that the nurse is crying…and Reese is crying…and Quinny is crying.”
Isaac’s voice cracked over the last few words.
“I’m not crying—you’re crying,” Isaac said, even though it was obvious who was really crying.
The scene shifted back to the anchorwoman. Behind her was a picture of Reese, Isaac and me.
“I’ve seen this story half a dozen times, and it still makes me tear up,” the anchorwoman said. “And to add some background to the story, the young man who shot the footage on his phone and narrated is Isaac Peters. His mother is the police chief in Dansville. Reese Ellis’s parents are teachers at the local elementary and high schools. And the young girl behind the idea, Quinn Arseneau, her father is an emergency room doctor working the front lines. This makes it an even more heartwarming story — our entire community is pulling together to support one another. Please remember that even when we stand apart, we still stand together.”
My mother turned off the TV. She sniffed a bit and wiped away a couple of tears.
“I am so proud of you, Quinn.” She gave me a big hug, and I hugged her back.
“Now I better get to work. And don’t you have a Zoom session coming up?”
“In a few minutes.”
My mother went to her office, and I went to the kitchen and opened my computer. I clicked on the link. Some people had already joined the session. Miss Fernandez welcomed me in. She did that with everyone as they joined. She said it was her way of “greeting us at the door.” It felt nice.
I looked from square to square. I missed these people. It wasn’t like we hadn’t been in contact, because I’d touched base with almost everybody on the screen almost every day. I’d talked to my best friends, of course, but also to people I’d never really talked with much before. I had found out things about them I hadn’t known. We were an interesting, quirky and unusual group, and I was really looking forward to the time we could be together again.
Miss Fernandez called the class to order by muting all the microphones.
“Our efforts to help our community by making masks have certainly been well received,” she began.
We could see one another clapping and cheering, even if we couldn’t hear it.
“This is important to remember. Even though we’re isolated, we can still come together. So, well done, everyone.” She looked down at some papers in front of her. “I have an announcement to read to you. It’s being shared across our board and with the media later today.”
Uh-oh. This was either going to be really good or really bad. I felt nervous.
Miss Fernandez looked up from the papers. “Look, I’m not going to read the official release. I’m going to tell you what’s going on, and then you can ask questions.” She paused for a moment and then began to speak again. “Last night the trustees of the board of education held a virtual meeting. They decided that schools in the district will remain closed for the rest of the school year.”
I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.
Miss Fernandez kept talking. I didn’t hear much. I was watching the reactions of my classmates. Some had their hands covering their faces, others looked like they were crying, and some had just walked away. I went from square to square, looking for Isaac. I knew he’d been in the session, but now I couldn’t find him. I didn’t want to be here either. I left my computer. I needed to tell my mother.
When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I could hear her talking. She was in the middle of a meeting, and from what I could tell, it wasn’t going well. I couldn’t interrupt.
I turned and went through the door to the garage. I hit the button to raise the big doors. The door creaked as it opened. I passed by the table full of quarantined groceries and thought for a second about getting on my bike and just going for a ride. Then I heard the pinging of a basketball.
Isaac was on his driveway. He stopped bouncing the ball when he saw me.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I shrugged. “You?”
“When Miss Fernandez started talking, I really thought she was going to tell us we’d be going back to school. Maybe not right away, but in a few weeks or even a month. I didn’t expect it to be over.”
“We will still have our lessons and Zoom and—”
“And no getting together or lunches in the cafeteria or pickup games at recess or team sports or the end-of-the-year class trip or graduation or the dance.”
“I never thought the dance would be one of the things you’d miss.”
“Maybe not the way Jenna is going to miss it, but it’s one of the things we won’t get to do. Wait—did Miss Fernandez end the session?”
“No, I just didn’t want to hear any more.”
“I never thought I’d see the day when Quinny Arseneau walked out of class, even a virtual class. You should go back.”
“So should you,” I said.
“I’m going for a walk.”
“Do you want company? I mean, you know, physically distant company?”
He shook his head. “I think I need to be alone. I have some things to think about.”
Chapter Fourteen
I heard the sound of the garage door opening. My father was home. I reached over and grabbed my phone. It was 12:35 a.m. I’d thought he was just going to sleep at the hospital tonight. He was doing that at least twice a week. I couldn’t imagine how tired he must be.
I plumped up my pillows and shifted around, trying to make myself more comfortable so I could get to sleep. For more than an hour I had been trying the usual things I did to slow down my thoughts, but nothing was working. Who was I fooling? There was no way I was going to sleep anytime soon.
I climbed out of bed. There was a night-light on in the hall. The door to my parents’ bedroom was closed, and I couldn’t hear the sound of the TV. My mother was asleep. She’d said she was so tired at the end of each day now that she slept like a log.
I tiptoed down the stairs. The light over the stove was dim but just bright enough for me to see. The door to the basement was shut, but there was a faint glow coming from under the door. I opened it. Lights were definitely on, but I didn’t hear anything. My father couldn’t already be asleep, could he? If he was, I didn’t want to wake him.
Carefully, and as quietly as possible, I went down the stairs. When I reached the landing, I stopped. This was as far as I was allowed to go. It was silent… and then I heard a sound. It didn’t register at first, but then I got it. It was the sound of somebody crying. My father was crying. Was he hurt?
“Dad!” I called out.
The sound stopped, and I heard footfalls, and then he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He was still in his blue scrubs. “Q-Cat, are you all right?”
“I heard you come home.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake anybody up.”
“You didn’t wake me because I wasn’t asleep. Dad, are you okay?”
“I’m good.”
“I heard you.”
He didn’t answer right away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want that. It was a bad day at the h
ospital.”
“But I thought it was getting better.”
“It is—out there. We’re still dealing with it. There were just so many cases, so many…” His whole body seemed to shudder. “I heard about your school being closed for the rest of the school year. Is that why you can’t sleep?”
“It’s just school.”
“It’s not just school. It’s your life. It’s okay to be upset. But tomorrow the sun will rise, and eventually it’s all going to be better.”
“Do you really think so?”
“The sun is guaranteed to come up.” He shrugged. “Every day we get a little closer. How about we plan on having supper tomorrow together, as a family?”
“We can do that?”
“We can sit in the backyard. You and your mom can be at the picnic bench, and I’ll sit on a chair off to the side.”
“Could Isaac join us from his yard?”
“Sure! Invite his mother too, if she’s home. I’m learning that we can’t do things the way we might want to, but we can still figure out ways to do the things that are important.”
“That sounds great, Dad.”
“Now, my girl, it’s time for you to go upstairs and get some sleep. I’ll try to do the same. See you tomorrow at dinner.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Dad.”
“Goodnight, Q-Cat.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I want to thank you all for coming,” I said.
I was sitting in my chair on my driveway. Isaac was on his. Reese and Jenna were leaning against their bikes on the road in front of our houses.
“It’s not like there was much else to do,” Isaac said. “I’ve seen everything on Netflix.”
“We’ve all been watching Netflix,” Reese said.
“No, you don’t understand. I’ve seen everything on Netflix. I started with the usual stuff, but eventually I found myself watching Downton Abbey and The Crown. I think I might have a crush on the queen—at least, the young queen.”