Blake Steele hated the end of winter. Not the season itself, he was fine with the cold and darkness that most people dreaded. It was the end he disliked, when spring appeared behind a warmer sun and lengthening days. Perhaps spring was the enemy. He thought spring was the real season of change, full of new loves, life-changing decisions, and graduations. Everyone shed leaves and feigned death for winter, but spring was the time to come back to life and to reveal who hadn't been strong enough to survive.

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the still-cool air. Unlike the rest of the world, which was already beginning to show signs of green, the school courtyard was perennially bleak. This was the sort of setting that seemed to encourage violence, a large area paved with a rough mix of gravel and asphalt. The only decorations were several sets of concrete tables and matching planters donated by a group of alumni a few years back. The planters were always empty.

"Blake, dude! What are you looking at?" Students were beginning to stream out of the lunchroom, and a few of his friends were standing beside him.

"Oh, hey guys," he greeted, jolting himself out of reflection. "I, uh, was looking at that loser over there. Why is she always there?"

She was the easiest target he could choose. Leah Stephens had plain brown hair that was always braided straight down her back, and she wore clothes that were either obviously homemade or from a thrift shop. Today, she had on a flowered blouse with puffy sleeves half-covered by corduroy overalls, and she was handing out brightly colored fliers.

"Dude, she's in my history class, and she's always saying stuff about random dead people. Like anyone gives a shit!" one boy said, launching into his best Leah Stephens impression. "Oh, Julius Caesar died for a reason!" he mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

"Oh man, we should go over and get some of her little papers!" The group agreed unanimously and began to walk towards the girl, snickering and joking crudely along the way.

She noticed them approaching and smiled undauntedly. "Hello, boys. I hope you are having a pleasant day. Would you like to take a flier?" She spoke slowly, almost stiffly, carefully enunciating each word.

"Ooooh, a flier!" Blake said with exaggerated interest, accepting an orange half-sheet of paper. The rest of the boys sneered and laughed.

"It's an invitation for the Unity Club meeting this Friday, where we will be putting together care packages for the inner city children. You really should come!"

The boy standing behind Blake snorted rudely. "Hear that, guys? We should help the inner city children. Tell me again, why do we care?"

Interpreting it as an innocent question, Leah responded, "We should help those more unfortunate than ourselves. People may not remember me for being smart or pretty, but I hope they will remember me as a good person."

The boy quickly retorted, "You think there are people who are more unfortunate than you? You're dumb and ugly! How much worse does it get?" The rest of the group cheered him on with low murmurs of "Ooooh!" and "You told her!"

Creases lined Leah's forehead as she squinted her eyes shut and pursed her lips. The boys watched her intently as she stood, hands shaking, searching for the right words to say.

Blake found little interest in the spectacle of human misery and said, "Alright guys, this is boring. Let's go." Leah's eyes opened again, and she gazed at him silently.

The group turned to walk away, and one boy offhandedly remarked, "Say, Blake, you never eat lunch with us anymore. What's up with that?"

"Just busy with yearbook stuff. We're behind schedule again, so I'm trying to get all these layouts done before the end of the week."

"It would be cool to get our yearbooks before we graduate, you know."

"Whatever, shut up. It's not my fault."

* * *

The school gymnasium served a dual purpose as an auditorium, barely able to squeeze the student population on pullout bleachers and folding chairs. Very few people enjoyed assemblies due to the uncomfortable conditions. The gymnasium was warm and humid, and large fans were noisily working to balance out the number of bodies present.

In order to easily identify students who were skipping assemblies, everyone was given an assigned seat according to last name, which meant that groups of friends were usually separated. Blake was fortunate enough to have a seat on an aisle, but his neighbor more than compensated for that benefit. After Steele came Stephens, Leah Stephens.

"Students, please be quiet… the sooner we start, the sooner you can leave," the voice of the principal blared out from speakers. "Alright, thank you. Today we have the privilege of listening to a guest speaker, and I am sure you will give him your undivided attention and respect. Please stop talking… quiet down in the back. His name is Paul Winters, and he was a teacher at Sommerset High, where the recent shootings took place. He will talk today about violence and its aftermath. Please join me in welcoming Mr. Winters!"

Applause combined with the low roar of hundreds of whispered conversations filled the room as a man took his place at the microphone. "It is my pleasure to be here today. In fact, I am glad simply to be alive today…"

"Did you know that he wrote a book about his experience at Sommerset? You should read it; it's really good," Leah whispered loudly to Blake, keeping her eyes arrested on the speaker.

I wish someone would shoot me, Blake thought to himself. Or hell, shoot her. That would be even better. He kept his head turned purposely away from her in feigned inattention.

"…Violence is not the answer! Look at all of the faces around you. Although we may not get along now, think of what the wonderful things your peers may do in the future! Sadly, those twenty students who were killed at Sommerset High will never have the chance to live up to their potential."

She knew he was paying attention to her, so she continued her whispered comments. "I think maybe those children did lead full lives, even though our human minds see them as too short. They serve as inspiration to us all in their deaths, in a way that none of us can while we still live. They will be remembered."

"Let this be a lesson to all of you. Let the faces of these lost boys and girls forever remain engraved in your memory, so this sort of tragedy might not happen again. I'd like to direct your attention to the screen to the right. His name was Benjamin, and he was only in the ninth grade…"

"Everything serves a purpose. Even bad things have good endings. Look, I remember everyone who has been lost." Leah fumbled loudly under her chair for her backpack, pointing to a gaudy red flower embroidered on the front. "See this?" she said, her voice no longer a whisper. "The poppy is the symbol of remembrance."

"Shhhh!" Voices from multiple directions hissed at her to be silent. She pointed at the flower again and clumsily shoved the backpack back underneath the chair. Blake sighed loudly.

* * *

The sun shone with heightened power, enough to warm heads but not enough to overcome the chill that still lingered in the air. Blake sat at a concrete table in the courtyard, diligently sketching layouts as students exited the cafeteria and flocked to their normal gathering places. Three of his friends made their way over to his table and crowded around him, loudly chattering.

"So, Blake, ditching us for the yearbook again, huh?"

"Yeah, I told you, I have to get this done. It's not like I want to skip lunch… oh, shit." Raising his eyes from his work, he saw a rapidly approaching figure carrying a jar full of jingling coins. The other boys turned their heads to observe the distraction.

A red-haired boy sitting beside Blake laughed coarsely. "Dumb bitch, I wonder what she wants this time." He yelled out, "Hey Leah! Whatcha got there?"

Encouraged by the response, she quickened her pace, the contents of her jar bouncing in unison with her clumsy stride. As she neared the table, she called back, "I am collecting spare change to make presents for the families of the students killed at Sommerset High. Maybe you could spare some change, or even help-oh!"

One of the other boys at the table had cruelly thrust his leg in front of her, and in her enthusiasm, she hadn't noticed until it was too late. The upper part of her body continued to move forward as her legs were stopped suddenly, and she grasped at the air in a futile attempt to regain her balance. For a moment, she looked like she could fly, arms flapping wildly and body half-suspended in the air; then the earth pulled her back down, her face, hands, and knees scraping and ripping against the jagged edges of the concrete ground. The jar she had been carrying dropped seconds after her, its coins reflecting glints of sunlight as they rained down around her body.

The boy who tripped her began to laugh, and Blake and the others half-heartedly joined in. She stayed almost motionless, only tilting her head slightly to look at Blake, hoping for a kind face. He turned away.

"Come on, let's go. There's a chick I wanna talk to before class starts," Blake said as he gathered his papers and stood to leave. The boys followed, making backwards glances at Leah's figure slumped on the ground in order not to miss any additional signs of suffering.

Through all of her past encounters with teasing and insults, Leah had managed to stay calm and strong, but this time, her resolve crumbled. She stared straight ahead, tears mixed with gravel and blood running down her face, and she whispered aloud to convince herself, "Everything happens for a reason. All things work together for good." Her cheeks stung from the salt of her tears touching the open wounds, but no one stopped to save her. "At least one day, I will be remembered."

* * *

The sun was shining and warm, casting its approval on the students below, all talking about the latest news. Instead of the normal isolated gatherings of cliques, people moved liquidly from crowd to crowd, informing those who had not yet heard and mourning with those who had. The conversations blended together.

"Oh my God, it's so sad. Did you hear about what happened?" a wide-eyed brunette chattered to a group of greasy-haired boys.

"Yeah, some girl killed herself," one replied, not looking up from his notebook and calculator.

"Leah Stephens. That little brown-haired girl who was always trying to get us to join something or another. She was so sweet." The brunette vigorously rubbed her eyes, which were red more from the rubbing than actual tears, and moved on to another crowd. "Oh my God, it's so sad," her voice droned on.

Blake stood with a group of girls, taking the opportunity of this school tragedy to get closer acquainted to a pretty blonde girl from one of his classes. The girls were all similarly dressed in faded jeans and tight, solid-colored T-shirts with logos across the chest. They cried, and they passed around a small, flowered box of tissues, each person in turn clutching it as a sign of support and unity.

The girl that Blake was eying spoke up dramatically. "Like, I've always heard about this sort of thing happening in other schools, the bad ones, but I never thought it would happen to someone so close to us." The other girls murmured their agreement. "I mean, Leah and I weren't the best of friends, but you know, we had some things in common, and we talked sometimes."

Another girl added, "It was really, like, hard for me when I first found out. She was in my history class, and I never talked to her, but she always raised her hand in class and said really cool things. So, like, I dunno, I felt this kind of bond or something." She punctuated the ends of her sentences by dabbing at her moist eyes with a pink tissue.

Blake cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, I always sat next to her at assemblies. You know, Stephens comes after Steele in alphabetical order." All of the eyes turned to him, and fueled by their sympathetic glances, he continued. "She always had something extra to add to what the speakers had to say, and I felt special because she shared her thoughts with me. We were pretty close." The blonde girl reached over deliberately to touch his arm lightly, and he flashed her a quick smile, one that did not extend to his eyes.

A distressed-looking girl carrying a handful of red objects ran up to the group, interrupting the discussion. "Oh guys, it's so sad, isn't it?" she cried breathlessly. "Look, a few of us are making these pins to hand out to people. They're poppies, like what she had on her backpack, for remembrance. Here, everyone take one." A dozen hands reached out to grab the pins, and soon the entire group was wearing the scarlet symbols.

"I just don't understand," the girl remarked before leaving to distribute the pins to another group. "She always looked so happy with what she was doing. Why would she kill herself?" No one knew.

* * *

The pins and tissues were popular for a few weeks, but they soon faded as the school year drew to a close. Few thoughts of death and Leah Stephens were present on the day of graduation. Since the gymnasium was too small to seat all of the guests, the ceremony was being held outdoors in the football field across the street from the school building. It was a perfect day in the heart of spring, and everything was lively and vibrantly colored.

"Dude, I want my yearbook," Blake's friend was saying as the two of them walked to their assigned seats.

"It's not my fault, I swear. The teachers made me redo the entire front page layout as some sort of memorial page, and I had the whole thing done perfectly before."

"My God, are you telling me that I have to see a picture of that dumb bitch on the first page of my senior yearbook?"

"Yeah, tell me about it. Anyway, my seat's that way." Blake took his seat by the aisle, next to a new neighbor, a girl with curly blonde hair and very prominent braces.

"Ladies and gentlemen… students, can you please quiet down? Thank you." Blake fixed his eyes on the principal as the ceremony began. "I would like to start out by just congratulating all of these young men and women today who have made it this far. I am very confident that they will all go on to do great things in the future."

The girl turned to Blake and whispered to him, as if she was confiding a great secret, "Doesn't this seem so unreal? I can't believe we're graduating. I'm so excited; after this, I'm going to go on a trip to Mexico and help build houses for the poor people. What are you going to do?" Her voice was whiny and nasal, and she moved her hands back and forth erratically as she spoke.

God, won't she shut up? Blake thought to himself, irritated at the distraction. He kept his head turned straight ahead, deliberately trying not to give his neighbor any indication that he could hear her.

The principal droned on, and Blake stared at him, though not listening to his words. "…I want all of you to remember to live your lives, not only to accomplish great deeds for yourself, but also to set examples for those who come after you. They will remember you and follow in your footsteps, and this will give your life meaning…"

"Or do you not know what you're going to do yet? Hey, didn't you work on the yearbook? You could make the newsletter for our Mexico group!"

Blake sighed loudly.