Defiant Little Bubbles of Joy
“Fago is a hard emotion to explain,” Mrs. Burrell, our English-11 teacher had told us. “It’s from a tribe in the Pacific Islands. It means feeling both affection and worry for someone at the same time. You might feel fago for someone whose job can put them in danger — a firefighter, for example.”
It intrigued me to learn there was an emotion I’d never heard of. Later, when Pan was gone, I realized that was definitely what I had felt for him. The first time I saw him — not interacting with anyone, his elegance so out of place in our classroom — I felt enchanted, but worried. Because as radiant and confident as he came across, it couldn’t have been easy transferring into a new school in November. And there was just the slightest something about his face, a pinpoint betrayal of sadness or vulnerability or longing, I’m not sure.
He was probably the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, and while that may not be saying a lot in Mungers Mills, in any location it would have been true. I watched him, and sometimes he would catch me and give me a quick smile. But he stayed completely to himself those first weeks. There were rumors about him, all dumb, and I think people eventually forgot about this new, tall boy who didn’t say much.
He even sat in the cafeteria alone, at a small, square table right in my line of sight from where I sat with Amanda. I kept wanting to invite him over, and if I’d had more confidence, I would have. Still, he appeared content to be by himself.
(continued….)
