A. Rolland - Of Breakable Things

When your hourglass trickles sand three times faster than a normal life, you dont have time to dwell.

No matter how often Alex Ash reminded herself of this, she continued to dwell. A lot. Especially about death. Maybe that was why she took it so well.

She figured that shed be able to hover over her casket listening to the harmony of sobs echoing off the walls of a church before she moved on to well, wherever she was supposed to go. This, however, was certainly the last place Alex had expected to be once her life ended.

Familiarity saturated the cinderblock walls splashed with tones of citrus yellow and apple green. Invitingly squishy bean bag chairs sat like distorted gumdrops. Bookcases overflowed with picture books and preteen novels under motivational posters of stranded kittens and toothless children. Utterly confused, she spun in her plastic seat to face the front of the room. A shock of recognition struck her to find her third grade teacher sitting at the desk. The corners of Miss Petras soulful brown eyes turned down sadly, but she tried to smile.

Alex raised an eyebrow. I guess this means youre dead, too?

Her smile became genuine. That isnt usually the reaction I get.

Should I start crying or something?

No, thank you. This is a nice change of pace. She clasped her hands in a professional manner. How do you feel?

Alex leaned forward, and her once beautiful hair coiled in greasy clumps on the desk in front of her. She gripped two fistfuls of the faded pastel hospital gown that plagued her frail body. Is there anything we can do about this?

Miss Petra looked amused. You can take it off if you want, but I have nothing for you to replace it with.

Pastel gown it was.

Now that weve established you are not in shock, do you have any immediate questions?

Alex shifted uncomfortably in the pint-sized chair. Despite the fact that the person whose tears mattered most to her was already rotting under the ground, she was still eager to witness one thing. Will I be able to go to my funeral?

Would you mind telling me why youd want to witness something so emotionally stressful?

Actually, Alex did mind. Her reason was personal: she wanted to spy on her father. Would he show any hint of feeling or love, some indication that he missed her, that he blamed genetics and not Alex for killing her mother?

Its no matter. I think by the time of your funeral, youll be long gone from this place.

Where would she be going? Alex felt tingles of anxiety beginning to seep through her, but then, they released into the air like puffs of smog against a clear blue sky, replaced by a blissful calm.

Whats wrong?

I think my emotions are out of whack.

Miss Petras eyes flickered to a door adjacent to the chalkboard, the one with an iridescent light trying to creep out from under. What do you mean?

I just died. I dont have a reason to feel so Alex's tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Happy.

Alex had long forgotten how it felt to be so buoyant, to have a heart that pumped for something other than mere survival. Granted, shed been waiting anxiously to die for some time, so in theory she should have been pleased. But one essential variable had not changed. The only thingthe only personwho had ever made her happy was not there.

Death is not such a terrible thing, Miss Petra murmured, sweeping her hair into a bun. Loose ends hung at her face. She hadnt changed much since Alex had seen her last. She seemed shorter, probably because Alex was taller. But her effortless grace still had the ability to take Alexs breath away. You dont seem too upset about being here.

Well, neither do you.

Sometimes joy and sorrow enter through the same door.

And that door just so happens to lead to my third grade classroom, huh?

Miss Petra winked and pushed herself to a stand behind her desk.

Why am I here? Alex asked. No matter how much shed enjoyed the third grade, no heaven should include a school classroom.

Youre seeing something that is comforting and peaceful for you. Two people hardly ever see the same thing. Miss Petras heels click-clacked as she crossed the room and rested her hand on a shelf clustered with models of Mt. Fuji. But I can see why this room would be an exception. I suppose I can pat myself on the back for that one.

Alex offered a tight-lipped grin and followed Miss Petras gaze to the twenty-six plump green caterpillars marching across the wall. Each one had the name of a student printed on its chubby green belly. Alex found her name and noticed that her caterpillars little red shoes seemed to be touching those of its neighbor. The caterpillar adjoined to hers had perfectly printed letters that spelled out CHASE.

Alexs heart began to thud in her chest, fueling a body that no longer needed it. She stared at his name numbly, watching the letters bleed together until they meant nothing. Somehow she found her voice. Is he here?

Miss Petra didnt answer.

Alex didnt dare look at her while she forced herself to choke out the next question. Or is Chase really gone? The unexpected haze of comfort overcame her again. It smelled a bit like chocolate chip cookies, and although the scent was favorable, she swatted the air around her. Why does that keep happening? she grumbled.

You would rather be miserable?

If she didnt have Chase, yes, she would rather be miserable. Not that she had ever had a choice in the matter. Joy would never accompany that sorrow. Is he gone? she repeated.

Miss Petra crossed her arms. Lets just leave it open-ended for now.

Hope spread through Alexs body like a sleeping limb awakening in a prickling of pins and needles. Painful but promising. She waited for this emotion to be swallowed up by the room, but strangely, it remained. Clearly, hope was allowed here.

I am dead, right?

The idea of death is a state of mind. But then again, so is life. Most of what we are is mental.

You didnt used to be so wishy-washy with your answers, Alex remarked.

This is a little more complicated than long division.

So it seemed. You said you thought Id be gone from here soon.

Most people find death to be difficult. I dont think youre one of those people.

So why are you still here?

Miss Petras eyes flickered again to the caterpillars. We all find our purpose eventually. I made a choice, just like you will.

Im not very good at making choices.

Of course not. Because others have always made them for you.

Whats left to choose if Im dead?

Miss Petra smoothed out her silky blouse. Even in death we are still very much alive.

The ambiguity of her answers was maddening.

We have some things to discuss before you can leave. Thats why Im here. So you can talk, laugh, cry, whatever you need to do to prepare yourself to make your decision.

Im not going to cry. Alex said.

The corner of Miss Petras bright red lips turned up in a smug smile. Of course not. You were always so much stronger than you looked. Tough as nails, your father once told me. When I learned you were coming, that was the second thing I bet on.

Tough as nails. Yeah, Alex was sure her father would say something like that. She was a product of her environment. If Alex was a nail, her father was the iron that strengthened the steel. What was the first thing you bet on? Alex asked.

That you would ask about Chase. Miss Petra inched closer to Alex, her face twisted in awe. I never saw two children, two