When we got to the stationery store, I introduced Oren to Suzanna. It felt so weird that she had no idea his parents had just died. He told me later that it was a relief, for once, not to see that “look” people usually gave him when they saw him.

It made me think a lot about grieving people. How sometimes they were devastated and heartsick, but other times they could seem like everything was fine. Like, how no one would know that underneath the smile Oren was really hurting. Sort of like how I’d been after I’d found out about Sam. How I sometimes still felt when I thought about him or opened up my memory box and sorted through his origami paper.

I took Oren over to the racks and racks of different kinds of paper. I showed him my favorites, describing what I liked best about each. He actually seemed interested, which was nice. When I talk to my parents about paper, their eyes quickly glaze over.

“There’s so many!” Oren exclaimed.

“I know. Do you want to pick some that look good to you? Remember, you’ll be seeing most of them on their edges.”

He glanced over the papers and then, for some reason, his cheeks got all pink.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…I don’t have a lot of money,” he said. “My uncle gave me a little in case we go for ice cream or something, but probably not enough for paper. I didn’t know we were coming here today.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” I said, waving it off like it was no big deal. “I’ve got money from my job at the funeral home.”

“But…” He looked uncomfortable. “I’ve already used lots of your supplies, and it was my idea to put the paper in the shredder. I want to buy you more.” He shoved his hand into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a five-dollar bill. The crumpled little flowers I’d made him were folded up in it.

“Oh,” I said, pretending I hadn’t seen the flowers, though secretly I loved that he still carried them around everywhere. “Five dollars is a good start. I usually buy paper one sheet at a time.” I pointed at the little price stickers on the racks. “See? They’re all individually priced, depending on the type.”

“Perfect,” he said. “We can buy enough to get started and then come back later to get some more.”

We pooled our money and bought twenty-eight sheets of different types and colors. It was more than enough to finish his memorial and replace what we’d already used. Paper goes a long way when you cut it into strips.

We thanked Suzanna and left the shop. And, because it’s just my luck, who did we see but Miri and Sasha.

My heart started pounding as I glanced at Oren. He rolled his eyes.

“I knew I smelled something rotten,” Sasha said, a look of disgust on her face. She really had that look perfected. Lots of practice, I guess.