Paper Smells Like Trouble

The prom countdown posters at Dickinson High had sparkles drawn in marker. Someone had even taped a tiny plastic bow on the number “9.”

Mariza adjusted her light purple tie and checked her phone camera, tilting her head until her red pupil caught the light.

“Still mismatched,” Miku said, leaning in. Her teal twin-tails swished. “Lucky.”

Mariza shrugged, but her stomach did a small flip.

Down the hallway, Teto walked with her hands stuffed in her skirt pockets. When she glanced up, one pupil looked normal.

The other pupil was black.

Neru stood near the lockers, smiling too hard at Miku.

Miku’s smile fell. “Teto… are you okay?”

Teto lifted a shoulder. “It’s nothing. Prom is dumb anyway.”

Mariza stepped forward. “I’m doing the photo booth. Funny props. Group pics. No pressure.”

Teto’s black pupil flashed toward Mariza, quick as a camera shutter, and Mariza heard herself add, “I can even add a… test print button.”

Cardboard Curtains

Mariza hurried into the empty gym, where the prom banner was taped a little crooked above the stage.

Her phone buzzed.

Miku: “Need anything?”

Mariza typed fast: “Props. Cardboard curtains. Tape. Please!!”

A drip landed on her shoe.

Then another.

“Not today,” Mariza muttered, staring up at the ceiling tile that had turned the color of soggy cereal.

A door squeaked.

Teto stepped in, hands in her pockets, one pupil still black. She looked at the growing puddle, then at Mariza’s face.

“Gym always leaks when it rains,” Teto said. She grabbed the mop bucket Ms. Sato had left by the bleachers. “Move your stuff.”

Mariza lifted a box of paper mustaches. “You came back.”

“I forgot my notebook,” Teto said, but she was already pushing the mop in steady lines.

Before Mariza could answer, Neru popped in, phone held up like a tiny TV camera.

“Cute,” Neru said. “Your ‘test print button’ sounds even cuter. Let me run it, or this goes online.”