I told her you existed and that you were sick. And she started crying. I think she feels really guilty and she’s worried about you. And I feel like everything else you guys should talk about in person.

Gabriela

Parisa.

Parisa

Did I do the wrong thing?

Gabriela

No. I’m just shocked.

Parisa

I haven’t told your moms.

Gabriela

Good. Don’t.

Parisa

There’s sort of more. She recorded a video message for you.

I have it on my phone. I can send it to you if you want to see it.

Gabriela

Jesus. My mind is blown. Send it now, please.

Parisa

Okay. Hold that thought.

PARISA

Last June, it was the poor air quality in San Jose and not a pandemic that threw a wrench in Winchester High School’s graduation ceremony. A string of nearby wildfires had turned the sky into an alarming hue of orange that made us all feel like it was the end-times. We couldn’t even go outside without grains of ash leaving a coating of soot on our heads. Families had lost their homes and the body count was increasing by the day, but that didn’t give Neda much perspective. She still let out the world’s heaviest sigh at the breakfast table when the school announced the ceremony would be moved from the football field to the gym.

“The entire day is ruined,” she declared, pushing her bowl of Frosted Flakes away.

At the time, I didn’t even think my sister was being ridiculous. In fact, I said a silent thank-you in my head, relieved that it wasn’t my graduation ceremony that would take place under the harsh fluorescent lights of our gymnasium. Hopefully, when it was my turn, I thought to myself, our senior class would be sitting out on the football field, surrounded by mountains and a sky that could make a climate change denier out of anyone. But aside from the last-minute change in location, Neda’s graduation went off without a hitch.

Our motley Persian crew of aunts, uncles, and cousins occupied an entire row in the stands, and we made it a point to cheer the loudest when Neda’s name was announced. Unlike me, she didn’t have the stress or anxiety of being valedictorian, and she was already graduating with honors and going to Yale. Her future was set, and she wasn’t the type who needed the glory and agony of public speaking to give her an added ego boost. As always, I was jealous of her confidence as she sauntered across the stage to accept her diploma and took a moment to curtsy and savor our insane screams. Thank God I had Gabriela by my side. She sat next to me in the bleachers—an honorary member of our family—and knew to roll her eyes at my sister and to subtly pinch me when Gideon walked onstage to accept his diploma.