I didn’t wear the mask. I didn’t wear it to school that day because I didn’t think I had to. The sky seemed clear when I woke up. Clouds were white and moving about their daily business in the sky. And besides, my ears were sore from having to wear that stupid mask day after day for two years. 

Mom wasn’t home today; she left for work early because of some “emergency.” 

Dad wasn’t home either; he hadn’t been for two years. I visit his grave everyday after school. Perhaps lingering over my father’s dead body should entice me to wear the mask, seeing as he died from the fossil fuels that have taken over our planet. But I’m a rebel in that way, and if no one is home to remind me to wear the mask, I won’t. 

I slip on my shoes and take the long way to school. I pass by the cemetery but don’t stop. That’s something I do after school. When I reach the building that I like to call the “education prison,” otherwise known as school, I immediately start looking for my best friend Dianne. 

Every walking soul I see is wearing that stupid mask that I refused to wear. It bulges off their faces, with all the complicated parts for oxygen and what not hurting my brain. 

I find Dianne sitting on the bench reading a book. She’s not much of a reader; I know because we used to spend hours reading an assigned book for a book report for language arts, and Dianne would be complaining the entire time. 

“Hey, Dianne,” I say, smiling. 

“Yo, Rex!” She drops the book, standing up to greet me. “What’s up?” 

“Eh, nothing much. So…you’re…reading?” 

Dianne’s shoulders slump. “C’mon, man, don’t judge. My mom is making me. If I don’t finish this book by the end of today, she’ll take away my phone for a whole week.” 

“Yeesh, bad punishment.” I wince, disliking the idea of having no way to contact my best friend for a whole week other than in person at school. 

“So…” she starts, then her face changes completely–or from what I can see under that bulging mask. “Hold on a sec–where’s your mask?” She sounds bewildered, but I relish her confusion. 

“Decided not to wear it.” I smirk, sounding more like a rebel than ever. 

“Why?” Dianne sounds mad. “That’s not safe.” 

“Sure it is. The sky is clear today. No fatal gasses floating around from what I can see.” 

“No no no. Don’t you understand? On days like these, the gasses are so bad that you can’t even see them.” 

“What? You’re joking. Everything is fine.” I brush off that fact. Dianne’s point doesn’t make any sense.

The day goes on as normal. Classes are boring. Everyone wears their masks indoors, even though we have air filters. But know one knows if those filters really work.

I practically doze off in every class, except for science. Normally, what we learn in science is pretty interesting, but today, Mr. Stines said something that hooked me–and frightened me.

“Okay, class, before we get into the lesson, I’d like to mention that today, it may seem like clear weather and that perhaps the gasses have subsided, but unfortunately, this kind of weather is not better, and is in fact worse. The gasses are so strong that they are practically invisible. I want to make sure that all of you are wearing—” he pauses and looks straight at me. “Rex? Where is your mask?”

“Sorry, sir, I, uh, forgot it,” I lie.

“Forgot it? Rex, do you know how serious this gas overload is?” I stand there, frozen. I can’t believe that Dianne was right, and this whole morning I’ve been breathing in deadly gasses.

“Go get a mask from the office. We have some extras in there.” Mr. Stines sounds pissed, but also worried.

“Yes, sir,” I say without hesitating. I bolt as fast as I can to the office, which is unluckily on the other side of the school. Halfway there, I feel myself running out of breath. I assume it’s just tiredness, but when I fall to the floor from exhaustion, I know this is more serious than being tired from running too much.

I clasp my chest. It hurts to breathe. The gasses are finally winning me over. I fall even further to the ground, still clutching my chest painfully, gasping for breath, struggling, writhing in agony. I squirm and attempt to call for help, but all that comes out is choked sobs.

Although begging for help, wanting to survive, I already know the outcome. I’m going to end up just like my dad, probably right next to him by the end of the day. I’m going to die in these cold dark halls with nothing but the company of the battered walls towering over me during my dying breath. I’m going to be discovered by my classmates, by my closest friends, dead in this darkened hallway. Someone will have to tell my mom, and who knows if her heart will be able to handle it.

I draw my final breath, and the only positive thing I can think of is: At least I’ll be reunited with my dad.