Check, Please (Book #2)

Twenty-One.

Because it was a Sunday afternoon, campus looked like a ghost town while Melanie and I made our way across the main quad. A few students carrying backpacks were coming out of the library, but most of the people that I saw were either soaking up the last hours of sunlight or throwing a frisbee back and forth. My shins started to ache when we passed the humanities building, though it didn't even cross my mind to ask Melanie if she wanted to slow down. Maybe it was pride or just stupidity, but either way, I felt like I had to keep up with her no matter what.

Focused on ignoring the pain in my legs, it took me a few seconds to realize that Melanie had fallen behind. I stopped, secretly thankful for the opportunity to rest, and reached down to massage my throbbing legs. Melanie was staring at a stretch of lawn that extended between the campus' main auditorium and the political science library. I walked back to her slowly, a little unnerved by the shocked expression on her face.

When I reached her side, I followed her gaze and felt a rush of recognition when I saw that what had captured her attention was S.P.L.'s latest demonstration piece. Although I felt guilty for letting my thoughts drift to Gemma, she had been the mastermind behind the art installation that Melanie continued to stare at. I'd actually helped by driving Gemma and her friends around while they collected the materials that they needed to put the display together.

Five hundred American flags, all roughly the size of an index card, had been driven into the ground by the thin wooden sticks they flew on. Gemma had arranged them to spell out "50," the number of U.S. soldiers killed in the weeks since the first troops had been deployed overseas. Behind the flags were three posters. The one in the center featured the names of the fallen soldiers that had been released to the media, while the posters on either side showed images of stunned civilians fleeing their homes while American tanks rolled through bloodied streets. According to Gemma, the piece was supposed to show the losses already felt by both sides, and it did. I'd been skeptical when she originally pitched the idea to me, but I had to admit, looking at it now, I felt just as moved as she'd sounded when I heard her talk about it for the first time.

I coughed to get Melanie's attention. "It's for the anti-war rally tomorrow. The fifty represents--"

"I know what it represents."

Melanie's voice shook while she spoke and when I tilted my head to look at her, I noticed that her face had gone chalk white. She lifted a hand to touch her collarbone, and I saw that her fingers were shaking. The tremor was slight, barely noticeable, but once it caught my attention, I couldn't ignore it.

"I can't believe the administration let this go up," Melanie muttered, more to herself than to me.

"Free speech, I guess."

Melanie's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, and what exactly are they trying to say?"

"Um," I began. My headache from this morning threatened to return while I searched my brain for the academic explanation that Gemma had given me. I couldn't find it. "These soldiers died for a pointless war?"

Melanie looked like I'd slapped her. "Why do you think it's pointless?"

"Well, because..."

"Do you even know why we're sending troops over there?"

"Sort of," I admitted.

Melanie turned back towards the rows of flags, her chin crumpling as she frowned. "Even if you do think this war is pointless, does that make it alright to exploit the deaths of all these people to... What, help some student organization recruit more members?"

"No, of course not."

"That's all that this is doing, you know. Exploiting them."

"I don't think--"