Her fingertips touch the pink Stargazers growing around the grave. “But Laura… she loved pink. The brighter the better. Always.”
I try not to move, afraid that even the slightest breath will stop her from talking. It’s rare to get more than a sentence out of her when it comes to Laura.
“I was never like her. She was fun, you know? Outgoing. She could talk to anybody, for hours.” She plucks one of the flowers off, smiling sadly. “I didn’t mind that everyone loved her more, because I loved her more too.”
I reach out and take her hand, silently encouraging her to continue.
“We looked out for each other, always. Well, Laura looked out for me, mostly. On that day… she was…” Her voice breaks, and I tighten my grip around her fingers, giving her strength.
“She was going to teach Jenny Pope a lesson,” she says, returning the squeeze as she continues. “She wasn’t going to hurt her, just embarrass her, the way Jenny embarrassed me.” She pauses and shakes her head. “God, I was terrified. I just knew that someone would know that it wasn’t me, but that it was Laura, pretending. Then I’d be even more embarrassed.” She looks over at the grave, the name on it. “But Laura… she was so sure. So calm. So ready to take charge. I couldn’t say no to her.”
I notice a pile of petals at her feet, the Stargazer shredded into tiny pieces with her free hand. I swallow, afraid of where this story’s headed.
“So we were in each other’s clothes. She had my yellow; I had her pink. Her hair was down; mine was up. We… were each other.”
She stops, her breath going ragged. She tries a few times to continue, but she can’t. There’s something stopping her, some barrier she can’t break through.
“If…，” she manages to get out. “If I’d been looking. If I’d just been paying attention. I… I…”
“What? Marley, what happened?” I urge her to keep going, to fight through it.
She shakes her head, but her voice continues on. “We… we had these stupid necklaces. Pink and yellow sapphires. Laura knew that if we were going to pull this off, we had to be perfect. We were waiting by the road, at the bus stop, when she remembered.” She reaches up to her neck. “I was still wearing my yellow sapphire—she was wearing her pink one.”
I watch as she starts to tremble, her memories consuming her.
“She took it off and asked me for mine. But… while she was putting it on, it… it got tangled in her hair. She was so used to having her hair up—and mine, mine was always down. But hers was… Shit.” She starts to shake harder. “I… Shit.…”
“It’s okay. Marley.…” I try to hold her, but she’s angry now. Frustrated.
“It’s not okay!” she says fiercely. “That fucking yellow pendant—my yellow pendant—got tangled in her hair. Her hair that was down because of me. She was pulling it and yanking it and laughing, and it snapped. The pendant rolled into the street.”
She stops, the memory alive in her eyes.
“I saw the car before she did. She… never even saw it. But I did. I saw it and I froze. I didn’t even try to warn her. My voice was frozen too.”
I lean back in shock. Holy shit. She tenses, as if she’s hearing the screeching tires, the sickening thud.
“Marley. It wasn’t your—”
“Then I heard screaming,” she says, cutting me off. “I thought it must be me, but it was our mom. I don’t even remember how she got there. She was just there, on the ground, holding Laura. Screaming…” Her voice goes high and shrill, the pain of the words, of the memory, embodying itself in her. “？‘You’re supposed to watch out for each other! How did this happen? Marley, how did this happen?’？”
She’s silent for a long moment as she struggles to catch her breath. “That was what she screamed, over and over.”
She wraps her arms around her knees, burying her face as she fights the tears that threaten to fall. Her voice drops to a whisper. “I’ve been screaming that same question to myself every day since. Every minute. But I scream it inside, where no one can hear me.”
I see it now. Hidden behind her every movement. Her every breath. She still blames herself for what happened, even though it isn’t true. It’s not her fault.
It’s the truth to Marley.
“I’ve never cried. I never even talked to anyone about it. I don’t tell the sad story. I just try to disappear,” she says finally. “Because if Laura can’t be here, neither should I.”