284 Days Ago

The bus driver was nervous. Bernice could tell because he was speeding more than usual and he had a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He had the news station on his radio and he seemed to be barely paying attention to the road. He kept looking at the sky like he thought it was about to fall. It almost made Bernice laugh. He’d been that way for 67 days. Why was he still so scared?

They reached the middle school where Bernice and her fellow 8th graders got off. The bus driver gave them a distracted: “Do good in school.” Before he drove off faster than was probably legal down the road. 

Bernice walked up the front steps and past a few teachers who were standing by the doorway to get them into school safely (new school rule, and in Bernice’s opinion a useless one). Bernice’s homeroom teacher, Mrs. Webs, stood by the front door with the same tight lipped smile she’d worn for 67 days and her gaze distinctly not at the students but at the blue above them. Mrs. Webs was also her English teacher, a class Bernice wished she could have enjoyed because she loved writing. Mrs. Webs avoided eye-contact with Bernice. Lots of adults did that to her nowadays and Bernice found it very annoying. Why couldn’t they just admit they’d been wrong? Bernice was pretty sure this is what conspiracy theorists felt like all the time. But she wasn’t a conspiracy theorist. It was bad enough that she didn’t have any real friends at school anymore; she didn’t need to be crazy too. Not since she and Emma had stopped speaking last year after accusing her of being basically insane.

Bernice strolled on into the school. She’d always thought her school was very nice looking, for a middle school in the middle of nowhere anyway. It was 2 stories high and it had 4 staircases. The main hallways were covered in a mural of blue jays (the school mascot) and had a soft blue and gray tiling. Her favorite part was the only bench, shaped like a bluejay, in the corner that had been her lunch companion for the last 284 days. 

Past her lovely lunchmate was her homeroom class. She slid inside and took a seat near the back. Mrs. Webs didn’t have assigned seats. She plopped out her Chromebook, a piece of paper and a pen. Bernice briefly considered opening the news to see what the bus driver was looking at today (he had a news station every day with a different scary theory that seemed to terrify him to no end) when a boy with frizzy red hair and eyes so wide they looked like dinner plates.

He looked pretty terrified too and Bernice considered asking him what news channel he had been listening to when she realized he was a new student. She could tell because:

1. He looked like he was about to pee his pants (but to be fair that was not so uncommon these days)
2. She didn’t recognise him and she’d gone to this school for 2 years
3. He held out his hand and said “H-hi I’m D-Daniel. I’m n-new.”

“Hi, Daniel,” Bernice said, as politely as she could but hopefully with enough “get out of my face and go to a different table and/or school” in her eyes to make him leave. Their little school had been getting a lot more students lately, ever since some random person on the internet wrote an essay explaining how living in big cities was the fastest way to an early death in these terrible times ( it had been called “Listen To Our Advice For Once And Get Out of the Cities Before You All Die, You Meatheads!” and was written by a guy named John Smithly, which Bernice was convinced had been a fake name). Anyway, the article had gone viral and now hordes of people were leaving the city to what they assumed were “safer” towns. So Bernice was quickly losing patience for the newcomers.

Daniel gave her a tight smile (almost identical to Mrs. Webs) and said: “I’ve n-never switched schools b-before.”

“You’re taking it well,” Bernice deadpanned. He either didn’t catch the sarcasm or didn’t care. Before he could continue their painful conversation Emma walked in. 67 days ago she would have been wearing pink, like a flamingo. Bernice knew because she used to wear pink everyday. And Emma would be like a glowstick in the dark hall of middle school. She would laugh and talk (not to Bernice) and people would wear pink too just to have an excuse to talk to her. Bernice never wore pink. And 284 days ago she wouldn’t have had to. Emma would sit next to her in class, have sleepovers at her place, paint their nails under the table in science, lots of things. Because that's what best friends do. But now they weren’t talking. Emma had never really been that good at apologies and even now she avoided Bernice’s gaze and sheepishly took a seat in the front. Today she was wearing dark green. Bernice’s favorite color.

Mrs. Webs strode into the classroom and waved airily to the students. “Morning, morning everyone. We’ll start today by passing out your assignments.” She walked around the room handing people their graded essays. They had written them over a month ago but with, as Mrs. Webs called it “present circumstances”, they were only getting them back now. Bernice was very interested in what her score would be. Mrs. Webs had pulled her aside a month ago (about 81 days) and told her she wasn’t sure her topic was appropriate considering all the political stuff happening. Bernice had written it anyway and gotten a “D-” but maybe this time her teacher would see things in a different light. 

Just as Mrs. Webs was coming towards Bernice’s table (she’d done them last) another kid, and one Bernice was even less happy to see, plopped down unceremoniously beside them. 

“Hey, Bernie,” Manuel said, grinning at her.

 Bernice rolled her eyes. She didn’t like being called “Bernie” anymore. “Hey, moron.”

Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Uh, h-hi. I’m–”

“Fresh meat!” Manuel exclaimed, shifting his gaze to Danaiel with a penetrating intensity. Daniel gave him a surprised look. You weren’t supposed to make those kinds of jokes anymore. He shook Daniel’s hand but it wasn’t long before his eyes wandered back to Bernice’s.

That was the main reason Bernice hated Manuel. For the last 284 days he had found her fascinating. He was a conspiracy theorist and Bernice hated conspiracy theorists. They were the reason no one listened to people like her. But everyone else now saw them as heroes. They had been telling the truth all along but they hadn’t. They had been piggybacking off people who had actually seen and made Bernice seem crazy. It was their fault she had no friends. Their fault her parents had pulled her aside one night and said it might be time to talk to someone professional. Their fault that Mrs. Web had failed her purely for the topic of her essay (Which Bernice had called “I Know It’s Crazy, But It’s True“). 

Manuel, oblivious or maybe just ignoring the anger in her eyes, said: “Did you know they finished the lockdown building? It's across the street, by the gas station.”

Bernice shrugged. If they had started it 284 days ago it would have been more secure. But they hadn't.

On the other hand, Daniel beamed. “Oh good! My parents will be so happy! They sent me here to be safe and all that.”

“It's probably a wreck. They only spent, like, two months on it,” Bernice pointed out.

Daniel frowned. “Well, it had to be quick.”

“If we all die at least Bernice will be here to tell us how we messed up,” Manuel winked. Bernice rolled her eyes but couldn’t disagree. Mrs. Webs set down their essays. Bernice looked at hers. An “A+”. Of course it was. Mrs. Webs probably hadn’t even read it. Life was so political.

“Very…very good essay, Bernice,” Mrs. Webs said, gently, almost sheepishly. “I can see you put in a lot of effort and…feeling into it.” Mrs. Webs was extending an olive branch. Bernice could see the signs. The same way her parents had. But Bernice didn’t take it. She wanted to say “I could’ve used the support 2 months ago when everyone was calling me crazy” or “Too little to late” but instead she just said:

“Oh. Thanks.” And turned away. Bernice was a more bitter person than she used to be. 

“Ooooh! Brainy Bernice got an ‘A’!” Chanted Manuel. It was strange how one minute he could be intimidating and one minute he was a five year old.

“And Moronic Manuel got a ‘C’. How surprising.”

Daniel cast sideways glances at both of them. “Are you guys…did you break up or something?”

Across the room Emma spat out her mouth full of water. Dating Manuel would definitely be something Bernice would have told her. Would have. Not that they had dated because unlike most girls at her school, Bernice had standard.

“Uh, no.”

“Oh. Really?”

Bernice just rolled her eyes and briefly caught Emma’s gaze. She remembered their fight like it had been minutes ago.

“I just don’t get it, Bernice!” Emma had screamed from across her bright pink room. “Do you get some sort of sick thrill out of lying to people?”

“Lying? Lying! You're my best friend! How could you think I’m lying!”

“‘Cuz this is freaking crazy, Bernie!” To be honest Emma had looked a little insane at that moment. Standing there, hands on hips, her face red. Bernice probably hadn’t looked much better.

“3 million people believe it, Em. 3 million people and my own best friend doesn't.” Her throat had gotten thick. “Why?”

“Uh, hello? Those 3 million people are crazy conspiracy theorists on the internet. You're supposed to be the smart one here.” That had hurt. And they hadn’t talked for 284 days.

Suddenly a loud burst of sound interrupted Bernice’s train of thought. It was short and sudden. Everyone in the classroom froze. Even the teacher. The radio went from news to static in an instant and a chorus of gasps filled the room. It was enough to make Bernice smile a little. It didn’t really mean anything yet. But it was funny what the brain could make you think.

Another squawk of sound and the room was once again filled with almost an electric current of terror. Like the bus driver. Everyone had been waiting for this moment. Bernice too. The moment when she would be officially right. When she could say–

“Well, that was dramatic,” Manuel drawled as he leaned back in his chair and rested his knee on the table. Bernice shoved it off. Daniel gave Manuel a look that said: “Are you crazy!?! Shut up!” and Maunel gave Daniel a look that said: “I don’t know what you're trying to tell me and I don’t care.”

The room stayed silent for a few more minutes before Mrs. Webs gave a bashful chuckle and said it must have been a mistake. They went back to their work for a few minutes. The radio was still static and Mrs. Wens turned it off. Bernice noticed the layer of sweat on every forehead. Yes, it must be scary to have something unexpected happen. But she had warned them. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Not like it had been for her.

“ATTENTION STUDENTS. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. HEAD TO THE LOCKDOWN BUILDING IN AN ORDERLY FASHION. PLEASE REMAI–” The rest of the speaker's announcement was cut off by a tide of noise from students who were decidedly not calm.

“We’re screwed!” Screeched a kid by the door. Immediately following his statement the alarm started. Bernice never really understood the point of an alarm. It's almost impossible to feel calm when an alarm and flashing lights are going off. The announcement, in Bernice’s opinion, was enough to scare half the students to death. 

“What does that mean!” Daniel shrieked.

Manuel winked at him. “I think you know, Danny-boy.” Bernice wasn't sure when Daniel had told Manuel his name and she really didn’t care.

“Everyone stay calm!” Mrs. Webs called while her knees almost gave out. She might as well have called out: “PANIC! THE WORLD IS OVER!” because that was pretty much what everyone did. 

They filed out of the room in a line (the first time since kindergarten that they had actually gotten in a line rather than a clump) and walked down the hallway. Students were pouring out of classrooms like ants in an anthill. Bernice was wondering if ants ever had fire drills when a hand grabbed her shoulder.

It was Manuel and his eyes were gleaming with the sort of light only very sick people had. “This is it, Bernie!”

“Please don't call me that.”

“It’s the end!” Manuel was the kind of person who would probably grow up to start a cult about the end of the world and sit around with a sign that said: “It's the end at last!”

“Right. Now get off my shoulder.”

Daniel was looking a little green and muttering something about “was supposed to be safe” under his breath. That's what the government said too until about 67 days ago. Bernice tried to get a look out the window at the sky but there were too many people in the way.

They finally got down the flight of stars and by now the students were out of their orderly lines and racing for the doors. Teachers were trying to reign in the chaos pretty unsuccessfully. 

Emma was near Bernice. Unfortunately, Manuel and Daniel still were too.

“We’re gonna die,” Daniel moaned looking up at the ceiling as if he would be able to see something.

“I know right! So exciting!” Manuel said. He was looking around at the windows and ceiling so fast Bernice was sure his head would fall off soon.

“Why aren’t you scared,” a soft voice said. Emma. Bernice knew Emma was talking to her but she said:

“Manuel is insane.” She wanted to add “kind of like how you thought I was crazy.” But now didn’t seem like the time. Emma was coated in sweat and looking at the sky like it might try to eat her. 

They were getting close to the door and every time someone got through the doorway they would look up and scream.

“Well, that's encouraging,” Bernice murmured. Daniel whimpered. The lockdown building had been made crudely and quickly. Almost the minute after President Wells got off his podium in Washington declaring that all those people, those 3 million people who they called crazy, well, they were right. And now we might be a little bit screwed (Of course, President Wells said it more professionally but that was what he was basically saying). The lockdown bullying was gray and had thick doors. There was one window that was bullet proof according to the principal but Bernice wasn’t so sure. Anyway, it probably wouldn’t get shot with bullets.

Bernice looked down at her phone and saw she had a text from mom.

Mom: I love you, Bernie. Don’t be afraid.

Bernice wanted to say: “please don’t call me Bernie” because everyone who had betrayed her had called her Bernie, but that would be a bit harsh. So instead she sent:

Bernice: I love you

Because it was true. No matter how betrayed she felt. And she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. She had gotten that all out 284 days ago alone in the woods in their middle of nowhere town when something so strange and terrifying happened that she couldn’t believe her eyes. And as it turned out no one else did either. 

After the president's speech her parents had gotten wide eyes as they looked at their daughter and realized they had been wrong. She had been right and all those other people, 3 million, who had seen them too. Who had believed. They told her not to be scared but why would she be scared? She had been 284 days ago and no one had helped her then. She had written her essay, with quotes and research, and no one, not her teacher, not her mom, not Emma, had believed.

Daniel edged closer to the door. A flood of students ran out and soon they were caught in the tide of bodies. Daniel was carried out the door and away from them where his eyes got somehow wider. Bernice didn’t think he felt safe anymore. Manuel was grinning maniacally and he raced out laughing at the sky above. His armageddon was finally here, Bernice guessed. Emma screamed with fear and Bernice wanted to tell her to stop being so scared. She’d told her. And the teachers. And the bus driver. But they were all still scared.

The alarm chased them closer to the door and Bernice felt a little sad. Not triumph like she expected, like how Manuel was clearly feeling as he grinned at the sky. Being right was nice, she supposed.

But what did it really mean in the end? She was still Bernie and this was still Emma. 

So Bernice grabbed Emma’s arm as they walked out the door. Emma in that dark green shirt. Bernice’s favorite color. And Emma smiled at her. Bernice smiled back and held on tightly as she looked up at the sky.

At those little ships, coming closer, from somewhere far, far away. Just like the one she had seen 284 days ago.

The end.