But their worry about the No-Soliciting rule still blustered around inside them like the leaves outside, rattling Mal’s bones as if they were the house’s old window frames. It wasa dull unrest, but one Mal couldn’t shake. As they sat taking bites of concha and shaking in-game trees with Maddie (“Oop, there’s another—your turn to take it, Mal”), they let the feelings blow through them. When the wind of worry died down, they were left with the melancholic sense that no matter what they did, they would never be doing the right thing when it came to school.
Mal tried—always, and so hard. They were always finding work-arounds, from crossing their7’s so their dyslexia wouldn’t spin them intoL’s to transitioning from magazine to zine. But regardless of their efforts, there was always somethingoff. There was just something about Mal that existed outside the acceptable parameters of the rules.
For as long as they could remember—since eighth grade, at least—they had blamed themself for this. It wasthem, after all, who couldn’t fit inside the margins. But now, beside Maddie, they felt comfortable enough to reach out into the fringe of their brain page and examine another idea: maybe it was the rules, and not Mal, that were wrong this time.
By selling the zines at school, they were simply doing what they had to in order to keep up with The Plan—their own set of rules that kept them grounded within all theothersets of rules. And whileMixxedMediawas not, strictly speaking, an education-related program as detailed in Items 1 and 2 of theHolmes High School Student Handbook, it was still an education-related program. Mal and Emerson and the rest of the staff had only taken it into their own hands because the school had failed them.
Frowning down at their Switch screen, Mal scrunched theirnose. They had neverreallyconsidered that someone other than them might be a failure. And yet the sudden certainty of it rested heavy in their stomach, vying for space with a second concha Maddie had split with them.
“Okay,” Maddie said, breaking up Mal’s swirling thoughts. “That’s enough acorns, I think. What would you like to do next?”
Mal looked up from their small screen. Their sister looked back, her expression open, easy, curious, comfortable. For a second, Mal almost askedCan we talk about school, actually?because they wanted Maddie to have answers for them. Actionable solutions, like she always did. But that new feeling in their stomach stopped them.
Maddie, who had never failed at anything, might not understand.
“Let’s go fishing,” they said instead, steeringAnimal CrossingMal toward the bottom of the screen, headed for the ocean.
“Okay,” Maddie agreed, following them. “And let’s pile up all the sea bass we catch in front of Derwin’s house. He started calling me Ladybro, and we can’t let that go unpunished.”
Mal smiled despite themself. Even if they worried Maddie might not understand their school dilemma, they knew she would always understand their weird way of playingAnimal Crossing.
“All right,” Mal said, casting out their line with one hand. With the other, they slid their phone from the sofa arm.
Friday, 7:21PM
We can’t sell the zines at school.
lol youre silly Mal!!!
such a prankster.
a true Silly Goose™
No, I’m serious.
Ms. Merritt told me and I looked it up.
There’s a no soliciting policy on school grounds for anything “not part of a school program or education-related program.”
that’s…
really fucked up???????
If you use the word too much it loses its effectiveness, Emerson.
We’ve had this talk.
and i still think you’re Fucking Wrong
Okay but can we take two seconds to be serious here because we can’t sell the zine at school which means, really, we can’t sell the zine at all, and we should probably cancel the layout meeting and probably the whole zine?
whoa there
little mx. runonsentence
it’s okay!!!!!
but yes lets take a moment and agree:
