End. Beginning. Again.

by Lea Oberst, Melba Copland Secondary School

Minutes have ticked by, and Lila is still silent. Everyone is staring at her – waiting. She can’t even swallow due to the thick knot settled in her throat, making her feel nauseous and ailing. Staring down at her desk, she fiddles with the peeling laminate top that she discovered through the lesson. She is shaking and her head spins with worry. Answer! Ms Jones asked you a question. Still, she stays silent.

Saved by the bell, all heads whip forwards, surprised by the sudden shrill sound bursting through the speakers.

“Everyone may leave. Lila, I would like you to stay behind,” the teacher announces.

Lila’s worry builds inside her chest. She can hear people stuffing books in their bags, pencil cases zipping shut, before they power walk out of the classroom, some leaving curious glances behind. Keeping her head low, she shamefully steps towards the teacher’s desk. “Yes, Miss?”

Through thick spectacles, Ms Jones meets her eyes. “This can’t go on. I need you to contribute to the class discussions. You’ve also been terrible on assignments and your schoolwork is lacking the usual. You used to be so productive!” She takes a long breath. “Is there something I should know about?”

Lila doesn’t know how to respond. There are so many thoughts whirling inside of her head, it is hard to grasp. How is she supposed to word it all? The worry, anger, fear, and utter confusion she’s been feeling? Both Lila and Ms Jones wait. Two words leave her mouth that make her want to recoil. “I’m sorry.”

Silence stretches between them. It feels like time stops. Lila tries to focus on the white tapestry, clinging to the wall. A dusty corner has a faint orange juice stain, running in lines down the side of the door. How did that get there? Her attention snaps back to her teacher when the silence is broken.

“In that case, I’m afraid to tell you that your grades aren’t what you hoped for. You’ve dropped down to 17th in the class, and you are hanging on a thin line between passing and failing.”

At first Lila is speechless, angry, then sad, but then confusion takes a twisting turn into an inexpressive feeling. “I understand,” she mumbles.

Inside, she is a ball of messy stress. The ride home is exhausting.

II

Levi, Lila’s brother, has his head reclined on the armrest of their blue couch, greeting her with a bright smile. She trudges toward him, trying to look happy so as not to spoil his excitement.

“Lila! Look at my new car.” His little cheeks puff out into a proud grin. “It’s so fast. Look, look!”

Engulfing her little brother in a hug, she responds with a playful grumble. Then, in a swift motion, she tickles him under his armpits. Levi breaks out into a fit of giggles, but then doubles over with the pain it gives him.

Next moment, there are wracking coughs coming out of his little body as he is hurling forward from the force. Panicked, Lila holds his head, crying because of the fear and helplessness she feels. This is when she notices how pale he looks. His skin is a sickly colour, and his eyes are baggy and dark, lacking the usual brightness they have.

She’s noticed this in the world she lives in too. It all loses its life. Toxins fill the air of their planet every day, growing, spreading, and unfurling, crawling into people’s lungs. And the cost? Levi isn’t well. She’s known that for a very long time, but this time, it’s different. The night goes on, and things grow worse. The next day, she doesn’t find him in his own bed.

III

There are weird tubes attached to his frail body; beeping machines with lights, flashing so bright that it hurts her eyes. The white walls project strange shadows, grey and lonely. Lila closes her eyes and takes a long breath, only to quickly open them again. She despises the smell of this place: a mixture of alcoholic sanitizer, overly sweet soap, and lots of medicine; smells that make your stomach clench and your throat tighten with one whiff.

Lila has experienced this before. This excruciating pain. Not from this place, but because of why she’s here. Suddenly, her clothes feel too tight. She feels every part of where her jumper sticks to her skin – bits of wool poking at her neck, itchy and clammy with sweat. She tries to remind herself to breathe. In, and out. In, and out.

No use!

“Mum! I can’t… I can’t do this.” Her voice sounds shaky. Her mind is weak. Willing her legs to move, Lila manages to reach the door before it gets swung inwards, causing her to stumble backwards in surprise. A man, and a woman in a white doctor’s coat, step into the room and close the door with a click. Standing between her parents and doctors, Lila steps back, trying to shrink back and be as unnoticeable as possible.

The doctors look at her, only for a second, before leading her Mum and Dad into a small room, attached to the room where her brother lies. The only noise is the beeping of machines, echoing unbearably in the background. Her heart hammers and her cheeks are wet and salty. She feels so scared. Alone – without Levi. Staying strong, she waits.

Looking at his little face, how his chest rises and falls with the help of a machine, she remembers what he once said. That night when she went to say goodnight, he wrapped his arms around her neck and stopped her from leaving. He was crying, and she held onto him, the feeling of misery washing over her.

“W-when I go away, will you stay happy? For me?” Levi said with a small voice.

Lila was quiet for a second. “What do you mean? You won’t leave me. I promise,” she said, her jaw hard, trying not to cry.

Her brother said nothing more, but she could feel how he didn’t believe her. Rubbing his face on her shirt, she breathed in the smell of him. She hoped.

The sound of footsteps brings her back into reality. The doctors saunter through the door with a grim expression; her parents following suit, heads hanging.

They hug her and say, “I’m sorry.”

And then there are only their arms, and their tears mixed with her own, as the room fades away. Nobody says anything. They only squeeze each other so tight that Lila feels she can’t breathe. She doesn’t want to. Not when the whole world feels like it’s crushing her.

As days pass and the grief abides, Lila often finds herself staring out the window, watching the stars twinkle from heaven. Cheeks flush against the breeze dancing through the window. She weeps, not quite sure if she is happy or sad. She remembers the hallowing wails of her father, clutching Levi’s pyjamas in his room, and the quiet sadness of her mother. Though day by day, they start to smile more, the pain never leaves, only turning into a painful memory, reminding them to make the most of their time together.

Lila catches a star winking at her and her lips turn up. She realises that she will try to stay strong for Levi and her family. Sometimes she still feels lonely. Some days are worse than others. But we are getting better, she reminds herself, and we still have each other.