ROOM 7
Chapter Seventeen: The Last Day
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The last day of the trip arrived wrapped in gray clouds and the smell of rain.
Nobody wanted to pack. Nobody wanted to leave. The house that had felt like a prison on the first day now felt like something none of them were ready to say goodbye to.
Yuri tried to start a countdown. Nobody joined.
"We still have the whole day," Mica said, flipping pancakes. "We don't leave until sunset."
"Sunset comes fast," Yuri said.
"Sunset comes exactly on time."
"Time is a construct."
"Yuri, sit down and eat."
He sat.
The kitchen was fuller than usual. Everyone drifting in and out, dragging their feet, holding their coffee cups like lifelines. Care and Cole were making toast together— without arguing, which made everyone nervous. Freya was taking photos of the little things. The window over the sink. The crack in the ceiling. The way the light hit the stove.
Erdix asked why.
"Because we're leaving," she said. "And I want to remember."
David packed his snacks first. Then unpacked them. Then repacked them. Then left them on the counter because "what if someone wants chips before we go?"
Alex was the only one who seemed calm. He sat at the table, reading, while Lyra put her head on his shoulder.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Tired."
"You didn't sleep well?"
"I had a dream."
"What about?"
She was quiet. "I don't remember."
He didn't push. He just let her head rest on his shoulder and turned the page.
---
Part One: The Fever
It started with a sneeze.
Lyra sneezed into her pancake. Everyone stared.
"Bless you," Mica said.
"Thanks." Lyra sniffled. Wiped her nose. Took a bite of pancake.
Then she sneezed again.
"Bless you," Calix said.
"Thanks."
Again.
"Bless you," Care said.
"Thanks."
Again.
"That's four," Cole said.
"I can count."
"Your face is red."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine."
Lyra tried to stand up. The room tilted. She grabbed the table.
Alex's book hit the floor. He was on his feet before anyone else. "Lyra?"
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine."
"I'm fine, Alex."
She took a step. The room tilted again. She stumbled.
He caught her. Hands on her arms. Steady. Solid.
"You have a fever," he said.
"I don't have a fever."
He put his hand on her forehead. "You're burning up."
"That's your hand. Your hands are cold."
"My hands aren't cold."
"Then you have a cold."
"I don't have a cold."
"Then I don't have a fever."
He stared at her. She stared at him. Her nose was running. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were glassy.
"You're going back to bed," he said.
"I'm not."
"You're going back to bed."
"I'm not a child."
"Then stop acting like one."
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Her lower lip trembled.
"I don't want to miss the last day," she said quietly.
Alex's face softened. "You're not going to miss it. You're going to rest so you can enjoy tonight."
"What if I sleep all day?"
"Then I'll wake you up."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He put his arm around her. Led her toward the stairs.
Yuri watched them go. "That was weird."
"What was weird?" Mica asked.
"Alex. Being all—" He waved his hands. "Gentle. And caring. And—"
"Being a good friend?"
"Yeah. That."
Mica shook her head. "You're hopeless."
"I'm observant."
"You're hopelessly observant."
"Same thing."
---
Part Two: The Bedroom
Alex sat on the edge of Lyra's bed while she burrowed under the blankets.
"You're going to suffocate."
"I'm going to sleep."
"You can't sleep without air."
"Watch me."
She pulled the blanket over her head. He pulled it back down.
"I'm serious, Lyra."
"So am I."
"You have a fever."
"I have a fever because you wouldn't let me eat my pancake."
"You sneezed on your pancake."
"It was my pancake. I can sneeze on it if I want."
"That's not how germs work."
"That's how my germs work."
He sighed. Ran a hand through his hair. "Do you want water?"
"No."
"Tea?"
"No."
"Soup?"
"No."
"Medicine?"
"No."
"Then what do you want?"
She looked at him from under the blanket. Her eyes were red. Her nose was running. Her hair was a mess.
"I want you to stop asking me what I want."
"Fine."
"Good."
He stood up.
"Where are you going?"
"You said you wanted me to stop asking."
"I said stop asking, not stop being here."
He sat back down. "You're impossible."
"You like it."
He didn't answer.
She closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed. Her face relaxed.
He watched her sleep.
From the doorway, Yuri whispered, "Are you just going to sit there?"
"Yes."
"The whole day?"
"If I have to."
Yuri opened his mouth. Calix pulled him away.
---
Part Three: The Kitchen
Downstairs, the rest of the group was trying to plan the day.
"We could still go to the lake," Mica said.
"Without Lyra?" Care asked.
"She's sick. She needs to rest."
"Alex won't leave her."
"Alex never leaves her."
The table went quiet.
Jay was making coffee. Keifer was leaning against the counter, watching her.
"You're grinding the beans too hard," he said.
"I'm grinding them exactly right."
"Your face is doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you're thinking about something you don't want to think about."
She stopped grinding. "I'm thinking about Lyra."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"You're thinking about how Alex is upstairs right now, sitting on her bed, taking care of her."
She turned to face him. "And?"
"And you're thinking about how that looks familiar."
She put the grinder down. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just an observation."
"Your observations are annoying."
"Your defensiveness is interesting."
"I'm not defensive."
"You're holding the grinder like you want to throw it at me."
She looked at her hands. She was, in fact, holding the grinder like a weapon.
She put it down. "I hate you."
"You don't hate me."
"I hate you right now."
"You don't hate me right now."
"What do I hate?"
He picked up the coffee pot. Poured two cups. Pushed one toward her.
"You hate that I know you."
She took the cup. "I don't hate that."
"What do you hate?"
She was quiet for a moment. "I hate that you're always right."
He smiled. "I'm not always right."
"You were right about the blanket."
"The blanket?"
"You said I was cold. I said I wasn't. I was cold."
"You were shivering."
"My teeth weren't chattering."
"Your teeth were definitely chattering."
"They were not."
"They were. I counted."
She stared at him. "You counted my teeth chattering?"
"I counted the seconds. Seven. Before you admitted you were cold."
"I didn't admit anything. You put the blanket on me."
"Because you were cold."
"I was fine."
"You were shivering."
"We've had this conversation."
"We have it every time."
She drank her coffee. He drank his. The kitchen was quiet.
"Keifer?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for the coffee."
"You're welcome."
She walked away. He watched her go.
---
Part Four: The Nap
Lyra slept for three hours.
Alex didn't move. He sat on the edge of her bed, reading, watching her breathe. Her face was less red now. Her breathing was steady. Her hand was outside the blanket, fingers curled like she was reaching for something.
He didn't take it.
He wanted to.
He didn't.
When she woke up, she blinked at him like she didn't know where she was.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
"You slept."
"For how long?"
"Three hours."
She sat up slowly. Her head pounded. Her throat hurt. Her nose was stuffy.
"I feel terrible."
"You look terrible."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
She looked at him. "You stayed."
"I stayed."
"The whole time?"
"The whole time."
She looked at his book. He'd read twenty pages. He'd been here for three hours and read twenty pages.
"You were watching me sleep."
"I was making sure you were breathing."
"I was breathing."
"I know. I checked."
She stared at him. "Every time?"
"Every time."
She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to feel. She just looked at him and tried not to feel everything.
"Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you get me water?"
He stood up. "I'll be right back."
He walked out. She watched him go.
She touched her forehead. His hand had been there. Hours ago. Checking her temperature.
She closed her eyes.
---
Part Five: The Fight
The afternoon stretched long and gray.
Jay was in the garden, sitting on the stone bench, watching the clouds. The volcano was hidden. The lake was gray. The air smelled like rain.
Keifer walked out. Sat on the other end of the bench.
"You're going to get wet," he said.
"It's not raining."
"It's going to rain."
"The clouds are thin."
"The clouds are dark."
"The clouds are fine."
"The clouds are not fine."
She turned to look at him. "Why do you always have to be right about everything?"
"I don't always have to be right."
"You just said it was going to rain."
"It is going to rain."
"It's not going to rain."
"It's definitely going to rain."
"It's not."
"Is."
"Not."
"Is."
She picked up a pebble. Threw it at him.
He caught it.
"You have a catching problem," she said.
"I have a talent."
"You have a problem."
He threw the pebble back. She caught it.
"So do you," he said.
"I don't have a catching problem. I have a Keifer problem."
"What kind of problem?"
She looked at the pebble. Small. Gray. Smooth.
"The kind where you're always there. Even when I don't want you to be."
"You want me to be there."
"I don't."
"You do."
She threw the pebble again. He caught it again.
"Stop catching things," she said.
"Stop throwing things."
"Stop being annoying."
"Stop being cute when you're angry."
She grabbed another pebble. Held it up. "I will throw this at your face."
"You won't."
"I will."
"You won't."
She threw it. He ducked. It hit the tree behind him.
"You missed," he said.
"I was aiming for the tree."
"You were aiming for my face."
"I was aiming for the tree."
"Your face is red."
"It's the wind."
"It's December."
"GLOBAL WARMING."
He laughed. She tried not to smile. She failed.
"It's going to rain," he said.
"It's not going to rain."
A drop landed on her nose.
She looked up. The clouds had opened. Rain was falling. Soft at first. Then harder. Then all at once.
Keifer stood up. "Told you."
She stood up. "You didn't tell me anything."
"I told you it was going to rain."
"You said it was definitely going to rain."
"Same thing."
"It's not the same thing."
They were both getting wet. Neither of them moved.
"Are you going inside?" he asked.
"Are you?"
"I asked first."
"I asked second."
"That's not how conversations work."
"That's how our conversations work."
Rain dripped down her face. His hair was plastered to his forehead. His shirt was soaked.
"You look ridiculous," she said.
"You look like a drowned cat."
"A drowned cat?"
"A very dignified drowned cat."
She picked up a handful of wet leaves. Threw them at him.
He didn't catch them. They stuck to his shirt. His face. His hair.
"Now you look ridiculous," she said.
He picked up his own handful of leaves. Threw them at her.
She shrieked. "KEIFER!"
"JAY!"
She ran. He chased. The garden was mud. The rain was cold. The leaves were everywhere.
She slipped. He caught her.
Arms around her waist. Her back against his chest. Rain on their faces. Mud on their shoes.
"You caught me," she said.
"You were falling."
"I wasn't falling. I was sliding."
"That's falling."
"That's controlled descent."
"Your feet left the ground."
"My feet are back on the ground."
"Because I caught you."
"Because you were in the way."
He let go. She stepped forward. Turned around.
They stood in the rain, mud on their clothes, leaves in their hair, breathing hard.
"You're impossible," she said.
"You like it."
"I don't not like it."
The rain kept falling.
From the porch, Yuri's voice: "ARE YOU TWO FIGHTING OR FLIRTING?"
"FIGHTING!"
"YOUR FACES SAY FLIRTING!"
"OUR FACES ARE WET!"
"THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER!"
"YURI!"
"JAY!"
Keifer laughed. Jay tried not to. She failed.
---
Part Six: The Dry Off
They sat on the porch, wrapped in blankets, watching the rain.
Everyone else was inside. Mica and Calix were making soup. Care and Cole were arguing about something quiet. Freya was editing photos. Erdix was helping. David was organizing the snacks for the drive home.
Alex was upstairs with Lyra. She'd fallen asleep again. He was reading beside her.
Jay and Keifer sat on the porch, wet hair, dry blankets, the shark between them.
"You threw leaves at me," he said.
"You threw leaves at me first."
"You threw a pebble at my face."
"You caught it."
"Because you threw it."
"Because you were annoying."
"I was being honest."
"You were being annoying."
"Same thing."
"It's not the same thing."
"It's our thing."
She looked at him. Rain dripped from the roof. The garden was a mess. The volcano was hidden.
"Our thing," she said.
"Yeah."
"What is our thing?"
He was quiet for a moment. "I don't know. Fighting. Coffee. Blankets. Rain."
"Leaves."
"Leaves."
"Pebbles."
"Pebbles."
She looked at the shark. Blue. Wet. She'd dropped it in the mud. He'd picked it up. Washed it off. Put it between them.
"You cleaned the shark," she said.
"It was muddy."
"You didn't have to."
"You wanted it."
She picked it up. Held it. "I did want it."
"I know."
She looked at him. "Keifer."
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you were in the way."
He smiled. "I'm always in the way."
"I know."
"You like it."
"I don't not like it."
The rain kept falling.
---
Part Seven: The Packing
By evening, the rain had stopped.
The house was chaos. Suitcases everywhere. People running around looking for things they'd lost. Yuri had lost his phone. It was in his hand. Freya had lost her camera. It was around her neck. David had lost his chips. He'd eaten them.
Jay packed her bag. Clothes. Toiletries. The shark.
She looked at it. Held it. Put it in.
Took it out.
Put it in.
Took it out.
"Are you going to pack that or just stand there?" Keifer was in her doorway.
"I'm deciding."
"It's a stuffed shark."
"It's my stuffed shark."
"It's been in your hands for ten minutes."
She put it in the bag. Zipped it. "There. Packed."
"You're going to take it out again before we leave."
"I'm not."
"You are."
She looked at him. "Why do you think you know me so well?"
"Because I pay attention."
"To what?"
"To everything. The way you hold your coffee cup with both hands when you're thinking. The way you bite your lip when you're about to say something you're scared to say. The way you pack and unpack the same thing seven times before you make a decision."
She stared at him. "That's creepy."
"It's observant."
"It's creepy observant."
"Same thing."
She grabbed a pillow. Threw it at him.
He caught it.
"You have a catching problem," she said.
"You have a throwing problem."
"I have a you problem."
"The worst kind."
She almost smiled. Almost. "Get out of my room."
"This isn't your room. It's Alex's grandmother's house."
"Get out of Alex's grandmother's room."
He left. She watched him go.
She looked at her bag. Unzipped it. Looked at the shark.
She left it in.
---
Part Eight: The Dinner
They ate together one last time.
The table was full. The food was warm. The conversation was quieter than usual. Nobody wanted to say goodbye to the house. Nobody wanted to say goodbye to the volcano. Nobody wanted to say goodbye to the way things had been for the past week.
Lyra came down for dinner. Alex helped her down the stairs. She was still pale. Still tired. Still stubborn.
"I can walk," she said.
"I know."
"Then let go."
"I'll let go when we get to the table."
"We're at the table."
He let go. She sat down. He sat beside her.
Yuri watched. "That was—"
"Don't," Lyra said.
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face said everything."
"My face is neutral."
"Your face is never neutral."
"Same thing."
She threw a napkin at him. He caught it.
"Everybody catches things in this house," she said.
"Everybody throws things in this house," Jay said.
"Everybody eats things in this house," David said, holding a chip.
The table laughed. The tension broke. The food disappeared.
Care and Cole argued about who got the last piece of bread. Cole gave it to Care. Care pretended not to notice. Cole pretended not to care.
Mica and Calix held hands under the table. Freya took photos of the empty plates. Erdix helped David pack the leftovers.
Alex made sure Lyra ate her soup.
Jay watched Keifer across the table. He was laughing at something Yuri said. His hair was still damp from the rain. His shirt was still wrinkled. His eyes were bright.
He caught her looking. He didn't smile. He didn't look away.
She didn't either.
---
Part Nine: The Drive
They left at sunset.
The sky was pink and orange and gold. The volcano was clear for the first time all day. The lake was still. The garden was a mess of mud and leaves.
Yuri drove. Calix rode shotgun. Everyone else was in the back, quiet, watching the house disappear.
Lyra slept against the window. Alex sat beside her, close enough to catch her if she slumped.
Jay sat by the window. Keifer sat beside her.
The road wound down the mountain. The lights of the city appeared in the distance. Manila was waiting. The dorm was waiting. Room 7 was waiting.
"You're quiet," Keifer said.
"I'm watching."
"The view?"
"The sunset."
"What about it?"
She looked at him. "It's the same sunset we saw every night. But it feels different."
"Why?"
"Because it's the last one."
He nodded. "We'll come back."
"Will we?"
"If you want to."
She looked out the window. The volcano was gone. The mountains were shadows. The sky was dark.
"I want to," she said.
He didn't say anything. He just sat beside her, close enough to touch, not touching.
The car drove on.
---
Part Ten: The Arrival
The dorm was the same.
Same hallway. Same door. Same room. Twelve beds. Twelve desks. One bathroom.
It felt smaller than they remembered.
Yuri threw himself on his bed. "I'm home."
"You've been gone a week," Mica said.
"A week too long."
"It was your idea to go."
"Doesn't mean I didn't miss this place."
Mica shook her head. Unpacked her bag.
Everyone scattered. Bags unpacked. Beds remade. The room came back to life.
Jay stood by the window. The city was awake. The lights were bright. The noise was familiar.
Keifer walked up beside her. "You okay?"
"I'm tired."
"It's been a long week."
"A good week."
He nodded. "A good week."
They stood by the window, looking at the city, not touching, not talking.
"Keifer."
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for winning the shark."
"You're welcome."
She walked to her bed. The shark was on her pillow. Blue. Soft. Stupid.
She left it there.
---
Part Eleven: The Night
The room was quiet.
Everyone was asleep. Or pretending to be asleep. Yuri was snoring. Lyra was curled up. Alex was facing her, hand stretched out between their beds. Care and Cole had fallen asleep on their desks. Freya was holding her camera. David was holding a bag of chips.
Jay lay in her bed. The shark was beside her.
She could hear him breathing. Across the room. Two beds away.
"Hey, Mariano."
His voice was soft.
"Hey, Watson."
"Can't sleep?"
"No."
"Me neither."
Silence.
"We're back," she said.
"We're back."
"The trip is over."
"The trip is over."
She looked at the ceiling. "I'm going to miss the volcano."
"The volcano will still be there."
"I know."
"Next time we go, it'll still be there."
She smiled in the dark. "Next time."
"Next time."
From across the room, Yuri's voice: "IF YOU TWO DON'T STOP TALKING, I'M GOING TO SCREAM."
"GO TO SLEEP, YURI."
"I CAN'T. YOU'RE BEING LOUD."
"WE'RE WHISPERING."
"YOUR WHISPERS ARE LOUD."
"YURI."
"JAY."
Keifer laughed. Jay smiled.
She closed her eyes. The shark was beside her. His breathing was across the room.
The trip was over.
But the room was still there.
They were still there.
---
End of Chapter Seventeen