Spring sports were ending.
Teachers became reluctant to start new projects.
Sanaa believed she could survive six more weeks around Mackenzie.
Her parents believed the same.
Vanessa occasionally asked whether things were quiet.
“Yes.”
Derrick asked whether quiet meant good or merely not currently on fire.
“Good enough.”
Naomi asked whether Mackenzie was the blonde girl in one of Sanaa’s old school photos.
When Sanaa said yes, Naomi stared at the photograph.
“You used to smile next to her.”
“We weren’t enemies then.”
“What happened?”
Sanaa thought.
“She decided my wins explained her losses.”
Naomi frowned.
“That sounds exhausting.”
It was.
Advanced Ceramics began its final assignment: one functional vessel representing the strongest skill each student had developed over the course of high school.
Sanaa decided to make a large bowl.
No concept.
No statement.
Just the best bowl she could make.
She centered nearly six pounds of clay on the wheel.
The first attempt collapsed.
The second developed a wobble.
The third worked.
Over several class periods, she trimmed the base, refined the rim, and attached a low relief patch to one side.
Brenna asked what the patch meant.
“Nothing.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“It looks cool.”
“That’s what it means.”
Brenna laughed.
For a moment, the class felt normal.
Mackenzie listened from another table.
The bowl sat on Sanaa’s board waiting for the clay to become firm enough for final carving.
On Tuesday morning, Mercer announced she would photograph finished projects Thursday before loading them into the kiln.
Sanaa planned a clear matte glaze after firing.
If everything worked, the bowl would become her graduation gift to Vanessa.
Her mother had asked for one piece all year and rejected Sanaa’s attempts to give her older work.
“I want one you didn’t mess up.”
“That is supportive.”
“I raised you on honesty.”
Thursday began badly before Mackenzie entered the studio.
Sanaa missed the bus.
Derrick dropped her at school wearing pajama pants beneath his work jacket and made her swear never to tell anyone.
She forgot lunch on the kitchen counter.
Then a chemistry quiz she thought was Friday happened to be Thursday.
By seventh period, ceramics was supposed to be the easy part.
She entered wearing a navy zip hoodie over a white tank top, light-wash jeans, and sneakers already stained by old glaze.
Her braids were tied back.
The bowl sat exactly where she had left it.
Mercer spent the first ten minutes demonstrating kiln loading.
Then a delivery arrived.
She stepped into the adjoining supply room with a custodian to check several boxes of clay.
Students continued working.
Mackenzie stood at the table beside Sanaa.
She wore a sage-green hoodie and black pants.
Brenna wore the maroon sweatshirt.
Three other students worked nearby.
Sanaa was trimming a small test tile when Mackenzie looked at the large bowl.
“That the famous one?”
Sanaa kept working.
“What famous one?”
“The final masterpiece.”
“It’s a bowl.”
“Right.”
Sanaa put the trimming tool down.
“Can we not today?”
Mackenzie smiled.
“I asked about pottery.”
“No.”
“You tell everybody we’re not allowed to critique you, then complain nobody critiques you.”
“I never said that.”
“People are afraid to say anything.”
“Because you keep telling them they should be.”
Brenna looked between them.