I stopped, my eyes narrowed at my sister. “I need you to do me a favor, can you take Marnie? I need to do something, and don’t want her around.”
She looked at her nails. “I think you’re all out of favors.”
“I’ve taken you to school or the beach every single day.”
She simply raised a single eyebrow at me.
“Fine, what do you want?” I snapped.
I’m not sure why she bothered with the prolonged pause, drumming her fingers against her lips; it was clear from her answer that it wasn’t an off-the-cuff negotiation.
“Your truck.”
“Fuck off.”
She stood up from the bed, and walked slowly toward the door.
“Fine, you can have it for one afternoon.”
“A whole weekend,” she shot back.
“An afternoon and an evening.”
Her smile was more simpering than any of the girls at school. I glowered back.
“I’ll call her now and tell her Mal and I will collect her on the way. I’m assuming you need me to tell you when the coast is clear?”
I nodded, ignoring the guilt and anxiety twisting into a cyclone in my gut. “Yep.”
“It’ll be in the next hour.”
“Thanks. And Emerson,” I called after her. She put her head back around the doorframe. “Make up something about why you wanted me earlier.”
True to her word, Emerson’s message came through an hour later, and I made my way over to Marnie’s, the way I usually did. I knew her brother was out, and her parents had left first thing to collect some shit or other fromSanta Barbara, which was going to take all day.
The house was clear.
I stepped softly through her window.
I’d never been in her room without her.
It was so still; whispers of her perfume floated in the air, and I breathed them all in, filling my lungs as deeply as I could; filling them with her.
I stayed in the middle, circling slowly, seeing it differently to every other time I’d been here. A voyeur.
I could see the pin board in the corner above her desk; a photo of us she’d taken a few months ago – our first day at the beach – nestled among drawings of stars, her class schedule, my games schedule, and her favorite quote –The Stars Don’t Look Bigger, But They Sure Look Brighter.
Her snuggly teddy had been relegated to the bookshelf ‘so we didn’t corrupt him too much’, she’d said. The sweater she’d been wearing this morning was slung on the back of her chair, and there was a pile of laundry yet to be put away, on top of which were five rolls of cherry LifeSavers, making me smile wide.
Her laptop was on the bed, resting innocently on the pink comforter as though it was lazing in a field of wildflowers. My heart thudded heavily, giving me an unnecessary reminder that I shouldn’t be here, and I shouldn’t be opening it up. And I definitely shouldn’t be typing my name in as the password.
The screen lit up and my stomach bottomed out.
Noah Matthews had been telling the truth.
The letters were still open. Two side by side; one to M.I.T. Admissions, the other to Santa Monica High School.
Her plans laid out in black and white, as clear as the promise she’d broken, along with our pact.
