Yet she recognized herself inside it.
That frightened her.
Fear became anger.
Anger wanted proof that Aaliyah was worse.
The plan involving shredded paper formed after the final print edition arrived.
Five hundred copies.
Stacks in classrooms.
Library.
Cafeteria.
Front office.
Paige found a bundle inside Student Council storage.
She photographed it.
Sent to Tess.
We could make confetti.
Tess replied:
lol
Paige:
I’m serious
Tess:
for what
Paige:
Senior Service Day courtyard cleanup
Tess:
you’re gonna shred her newspaper?
Paige:
copies are free
Tess:
why
Paige:
because it’s funny
Then:
And because she’ll lose her mind if it gets dumped on her.
Tess sent:
dont touch her
Paige:
I won’t if she doesn’t
Tess:
Paige
Paige:
Relax
Caleb saw those messages on the tablet later that night.
He screenshot everything.
Then confronted Paige again.
“Do not do this.”
She laughed.
“Do what?”
“The paper thing.”
“You’re reading my messages again?”
“Stop planning stupid shit.”
“It’s shredded newspaper.”
“You’re trying to provoke her.”
“According to who?”
“According to your own messages.”
Paige stared.
Then smiled.
“You going to report your sister?”
Caleb said nothing.
There it was again.
Paige walked upstairs.
Caleb remained in the kitchen.
He opened an email to Assistant Principal Marshall.
Typed:
I need to report something involving Paige and Aaliyah.
He stared.
Then saved it as a draft.
Did not send.
That failure would matter.
Senior Service Day happened on a Friday in May.
Fairmont Ridge seniors rotated through cleanup and beautification projects around campus before afternoon yearbook signing.
Mulch beds.
Paint benches.
Clean courtyard tables.
Sort storage closets.
Prepare graduation decorations.
Aaliyah was assigned to the central courtyard.
Not punishment.
Volunteer schedule.
She wore a black bomber jacket over a white cropped tank, black pants, white sneakers, and large gold hoops.
Her hair was twisted into a high bun because she expected dust.
At noon, the courtyard was covered with normal cleanup debris.
Leaves.
Paper.
Old flyers.
Bits of decoration.
Aaliyah held a long wooden-handled broom.
Serena worked inside for twenty minutes carrying trash bags.
That left Aaliyah near the walkway with three other students.
Paige arrived carrying a large clear plastic container.
She wore a bright pink jacket, black leggings, and white sneakers.
Tess followed in a denim jacket.
The container was filled with shredded white paper.
Aaliyah noticed.
“Where’s that going?”
Paige smiled.
“Recycling.”
“Shredded paper doesn’t go in the courtyard.”
“It will.”
Aaliyah frowned.
“What?”
Paige stepped closer.
Then lifted the container.
The shredded paper came down in one enormous white cascade.
Over Aaliyah’s head.
Across her bun.
Inside her bomber jacket.
Over her shoulders.