The trophy still had her fingerprints beneath the dust

Dear Delyara, I coach girls’ football at a secondary school. Three years ago, our captain, Lindiwe, led the team to its first regional championship. Two weeks later, she was killed by her boyfriend. The trophy remained in a locked display cabinet because nobody knew whether showing it honored her or made the hallway unbearable for her younger sister, who still attends the school. Today, the principal asked me to clean the cabinet before an inspection. When I lifted the trophy, I saw fingerprints beneath the dust, small overlapping marks where the girls had passed it between them after the final. I recognized one print near the base because Lindiwe had cut her thumb that day and left a faint brown line beside it. I should have polished everything. Instead, I cleaned around the marks. The inspector may notice. I no longer care. Schools turn children into names on registers, examination numbers, attendance percentages, and, when something terrible happens, framed photographs beside candles. Lindiwe was more untidy than that. She swore during training, forgot her boots, protected weaker players, and held that trophy with both hands while shouting that nobody would ever forget them. I have placed it back in the cabinet with the fingerprints still visible when the light catches them.