Written by Ashhna Uprety of Richard Montgomery
“Riya, wake up!” My mom’s voice shouted. My eyes fluttered open, and I was met with the sight of my bright purple ceiling. “Riya, are you up yet?” My mom stuck her head through the doorway on the wall opposite of my bed.
“Yes, yes,” I muttered groggily.
“Didn’t you set your alarm?” she huffed, eyeing the clothes scattered around my room in dismay. We had the same dark hair and tan skin, but our similarities ended there.
“I did! I swear I did.” I looked over to my nightstand, where the small gray alarm clock was sitting, all content and quiet. I reluctantly got out of bed and surveyed my messy room.
“That’s the third time this month,” she said. “Maybe we need to buy you a new one. And thimro kota sapha gara!”
Great, not even five minutes into the day, and my mom was yelling at me to clean my room.
“Morning,” I said, walking into the kitchen.
“Morning chori,” my dad answered, already at the wooden dining table drinking tea. Chōrī means “daughter” in Nepali. I rummaged through the white cabinets, looking for my water bottle.
“Dad, have you seen my paniko botal?” I asked. “Never mind.” I spotted it on the island in the middle of the kitchen. I had ten minutes to leave the house if I wanted to get to school on time.
Maybe I did need a new alarm clock.
“Riya!” I turned my head and saw my friend Johari wave at me across the hallway. I made my way across the tiles, once white and now dimmed to an ugly pale gray from thousands of students trampling over them.
“Jo, did you study for the math test?” I joined her at one of the many navy blue lockers lining the walls of the hallway.
“Um, obviously not.” She wrestled her beige puffer coat into the locker. “Either way, we both know I’ll be fine.” Her curly black hair was slightly rumpled, and her dark brown skin was tinged pink from the harsh winter wind. Even after battling the awful mid-December weather, she looked positively radiant.
Well, I don’t think I’d ever seen Johari look less than perfect.
“Guys!” Alani, another one of our good friends, raced down the hallway towards us. She was breathless, and her pale skin was flushed red. Her deep brown eyes were sparkling.
“Hey Alani,” I said. Alani was the type of person who was always in a rush.
“I almost missed the bus today,” she told us, regaining her breath.
“Typical Alani,” Johari snorted, shaking her head.
“Well, I mean you’re not wrong. Oh, Jo can I put my coat in your locker?” Alani unbuttoned her pea green coat and stuffed it in the locker, not waiting for Johari’s response.
“Oh yeah, sure go ahead,” Johari muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Today has definitely not started off well for me,” Alani sighed.
“Um, same here,” I said. “My alarm clock didn’t even go off!”
“Oh, that might have happened because your power went out last night,” Johari said. We began to walk down the hallway—the dreaded walk to first period.
“Oh right,” I replied. I had completely forgotten about that.
We pushed past a mob of students going the opposite way of us.
“Yeah, it went out for like three hours for me last night,” Alani added. “The snow storm was pretty bad.”
“Well, at least you weren’t in the middle of a shower,” huffed Johari. “I thought it was my brother doing another annoying prank but nooo—”
“Oh, poor Johari!” I gasped, feigning concern. “How will she ever recover?”
Alani laughed as I dodged a shove from Johari.
“You better watch out! The next time I come over, I might eat all of the Cheez-its!” Johari threatened, wiggling her eyebrows.
“No, that is a war crime!” I said sternly.
And then it went dark.
Literally.
The overhead lights shut off, enveloping the hallway in darkness. No one spoke for a moment, and it was kind of peaceful.
Then, the conversations began again, and the hallway filled with the chatter of excited students.
“Does this mean we get to go home?” Johari muttered.
“I hope so,” Alani chimed in. “I did not study for that math test.”
A teacher yelled in the hallway for students to get to their first periods. I parted with Alani and Johari and made my way to my English class across the hall.
Sliding into my seat in the front row, I leaned closer to the windows on the left. I had a perfect view of the inner courtyard from here; the trees were lightly dusted with snow, and a woolly carpet covered the grounds.
“Settle down, settle down.” A tall woman with jet black hair and light brown eyes entered the room. Ms. Silas, our regular teacher, must have been absent. The substitute straightened her bright red cat eye glasses and cleared her throat. “I am Ms. Huang. And yes, if the power doesn’t come back by the end of the period, you guys are allowed to go home.”
The room practically buzzed with excitement.
“Well, we might as well go home right now,” I whispered to Paisley, the girl that sat next to me.
“Don’t get too excited yet!” Ms. Huang continued. “Although everything your teacher planned was meant to be done on the Promethean, so you all can do whatever you want as long as you keep it down.”
The chatter began again.
“I said keep it down,” Ms. Huang ordered. “I don’t want to make you all sit in silence.”
“I like her glasses,” Paisley remarked, tucking a strand of her shoulder length strawberry blond hair behind her ear. I nodded my head in agreement. Just one hour until we were able to go home.
“I wish we could go outside.” I stared out at the snow that lay beyond the window.
“Yeah, me too,” Paisley said, drumming her gold ring-covered fingers on her desk. My phone buzzed in the back pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out to see that Alani and Johari had been texting like crazy in our group chat.
Riya come outside! The most recent text from Jo read. Did she mean outside the classroom?
Telling Ms. Huang I was going to the bathroom—which I received a half-hearted “make it quick” from—I left the classroom. Johari and Alani were standing outside with impatient looks on their faces.
“Finally, do you even check your phone?” Alani grumbled.
“Sorry,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “What are we doing?”
“Well,” Jo began, as we walked down the hallway, past all the classrooms, until we reached a stairwell tucked away in a corner. “The door to the roof is unlocked.” Johari grinned.
“And? Oh, wait.” I caught onto what they were saying. “But it’s always locked, how are you sure?”
“A little bird told me,” Alani said, batting her eyelashes innocently.
“All right.” I smiled. Alani’s carefree energy was certainly contagious.
We bounded up the creaky blue stairwell, and they were right; the gate that blocked the stairwell to the roof was unlocked. I pushed open the navy gate, wincing as it creaked.
“If anyone catches us up here, we’re dead,” I lectured them.
“Yes, we are well aware.” Johari breezed past me and started on the steps leading to the roof. Alani sauntered up the stairs after her. I closed the gate behind me and followed.
I had never been on the roof. It was a running challenge within us students at Claudette Colvin High to see how many of us could write our initials up there. The challenge apparently had been there since 1992, and teachers who were former students always turned a blind eye.
I gently closed the heavy metal door behind me and stepped out.
Shivering as the cold air hit me, I cursed under my breath for not bringing my jacket. It certainly was a sight, the flat roof of the high school blanketed in a fine layer of white snow. This stairwell led to the far left corner of the roof and a perfect view of the two parking lots crammed with student and teacher owned cars. Behind us were the soccer and baseball field, all covered with a carpet of snow.
“There’s no way we’ll be able to write our initials with all this snow!” Johari shouted, kicking the powder around her into a small pile. A trail of footprints were left behind her as she trudged through the snow to meet Alani in the middle of the roof.
“Well, no duh,” I said, walking towards them. “Just enjoy the view I guess.” The view wasn’t amazing, but it was definitely different than looking at it from the ground level. I spun in a circle, almost tripping on a hard chunk of snow.
“Ow!” Alani cried. I whipped my head around to see her clutching her arm. Johari stood a few feet away, looking very smug, pieces of half-melted ice still dripping off her hand. “JO! Oh, it is on!” Alani bent down and grabbed a handful of snow.
Snow began flying through the air as we ran all over the roof, attempting to shield ourselves and throw snow at each other at the same time. The cold air stung through my thin sweater, but I barely noticed.
“Wait, don’t!” Jo pleaded as I was poised to throw a snowball. “I’m going to check the time.” She pulled out her phone and shrieked. “Guys, five minutes till class ends!”
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