Lost. Of course. “You’re more than welcome to go in my place,” I told her. “Be sure to pack your cutest swimsuits. Don’t eat the meat. Request cabin four. They have the warmest showers. Oh, and rumor has it that it’s rigged and the blue team wins the color war every year.”
“Why aren’t you ever grateful for the chances you’re given?”
“Chances for what? Please explain. I’d love to hear this.”
“Olivia, stop.”
“You started it,” I said with a scowl.
We turned at the second intersection and followed the flatter street until it tapered off to make space for the railroad track that no longer operated. The end of daylight was fading the sky into the magic orange Ms. DeVeau wished her house mimicked.
Aidy stopped our momentum to press her hand into my elbow crease. “Wait. What are we going to say to her?”
I recalled the trace of lip liner on Ms. DeVeau’s skin at the memorial. Her taut face scolding me. “I figured we’d listen and go from there,” I started. “Say whatever she wants us to say, so we can get out as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” Aidy said as she bobbed her head. “That could work. Yeah.”
“It always works.”
We proceeded up the two concrete steps. Aidy knocked. I looked around. Nothing of note in the small front yard, save for the beautiful garden that shouldn’t exist. Footsteps pattered close then stopped. Ten seconds passed between the halted movement and the door opening. Ms. DeVeau revealed herself to us, wrapped up like a present in a satin robe that didn’t seem like it would do much good after a shower. Her face was bare and scrubbed pink. “Come in, girls,” she said.
Her house smelled like expensive floral candles. They burned on otherwise-empty tables scattered throughout. The layout went straight back, and she led us through the front room, dining room, and kitchen. Each area felt staged, all done up in rustic whites, ready for a catalog shoot. Not a single personal touch was in sight, save for a black and white 8x10 of Marley as a toddler, birthday cake frosting streaking her plump cheeks. We reached an enclosed porch on the back of her house where Ms. DeVeau had iced tea waiting for us, along with sliced cucumbers and peppers.
“Sit down,” she said.
Aidy and I joined up shoulder to shoulder on one of the love seats.
“Your mother called this morning to say you’d be stopping by. I almost put this all away, and well, here you are.” Ms. DeVeau evaluated Aidy and me with no discretion, starting at our feet and dragging her eyes up. “As you both get older, you’d really never know the two of you were related.” She looked from Aidy to me until we met in a deadlock stare. “Except maybe in the nose?”
If it was chess she wanted to play, I was no pawn. “Maybe.”
Aidy grabbed a cucumber and began nibbling its edges. With a sly shimmy she masked as a full-body cough, she moved into me. Don’t you dare abandon the plan, her arm said to my side.
Ms. DeVeau joined Aidy and me on the love seat. A matching one waited across from us, empty, like a mirror into a world where we didn’t have to pretend this way for each other.
Ms. DeVeau’s hand found the top of mine. “Little Olivia,” she started. Her breath was raw as her skin and smelled of coffee. “If there is anything I want to say, it’s that I believe in you.”
Aidy’s fear dampened my urge to laugh at the way Ms. DeVeau tried to pick me up by the nape of my neck. “Thank you,” I said instead. “That means a lot coming from you.”
“Being around the Cline boy again won’t do you any good. No one blames him for what happened. Marley should never have had such easy access to her father’s gun. That was the real problem,” Ms. DeVeau said with a rehearsed flick of her hand, like she’d spoken that exact statement too many times to muster up any feeling behind it. “But Nick’s had such trouble acclimating since then. I don’t want that for you.” She stroked my hair. “You were always Marley’s little admirer.” As Aidy reached for more cucumber, Ms. DeVeau said, “And you, Aidy. You’re her sister. You should be watching out the way Marley would.”
If there was ever a time to see the resemblance between us Stanton girls, it was at that exact moment, as our brows scrunched to meet the bridges of our apparently similar noses. Aidy could do no better or worse than Marley, for she was not Marley. She was Aidy. My sister. And she did not belong in judgmental sentences falling from any lips other than my own.
“She does,” I warned.
“Well, she needs to do a better job. You turned my daughter’s memorial into your own little show.”
The local news segment showed Cadence’s art teacher talking about her new oil portrait of Marley, a few crowd shots from earlier in the night, and a short clip of Mayor Bayor’s introduction. Those who didn’t attend would never know how many truly interesting things occurred. And those who did attend kept the interesting parts hidden away, like they always did. It was no wonder we spent our childhood raiding our houses. Adults loved secrets. Kids loved learning them.
Aidy leaned forward to see Ms. DeVeau across the couch. “You’re the one who threw your chair,” she muttered. “Don’t you think that was kind of distracting too?”
I wanted to throw my arms around my sister. Squeeze her so tight, her newfound truth-telling got stuck in the top half of her body, forever spilling out of her mouth. But Ms. DeVeau clenched the flesh of my back to absorb the shock of the blow. I wiggled out of her hold and stood.
“Yes. We’re all very emotional,” I assured. “What happened can’t be changed. Marley is who’s important, anyway. If anyone deserves the apology, it’s her.” I stepped down into the backyard. “I’m sorry, Marley,” I said to nothing and no one.
The trees swayed, a random breeze shaking down delicate leaves like Marley’s shoulders used to shake when she found something hilarious.
The real Marley was laughing.
Satisfied, I walked back up and said, “If you’ll excuse Aidy and me, we have a few other things to take care of before our curfew. We Stanton girls get very busy in July.”
Aidy rose, eyes on the ground. “Thanks,” she muttered to Ms. DeVeau.
“Yes, thank you,” I added.
Once inside the house, we ran. Once out the other side, we laughed. Sprinting and giggling, we kept our quick pace until we knew we were out of sight.
July 11
Five Years Prior
Our sleeping bags had been rolled up and stacked in a triangular formation next to the Brickets’ front door. Aidy stood in front of them as if she got to decide who was worthy of getting theirs returned.
“We have to go to my house,” she said. “It’s not a discussion. All of our parents think that’s where we’re gonna be.” She folded her arms. “If we don’t do this, they’re not gonna let us have sleepovers and stuff anymore.”
Teeny laughed at her. “We’ve been on borrowed time for a while now. How you and Harrison have tricked them into thinking you’re just best friends is beyond me.”
Aidy blushed. She hated when anyone pointed out this out. We lied to our parents all the time, but Aidy had it in her head that she only lied when necessary. Otherwise, she handcuffed herself to the rules and acted like she didn’t have a key.
“We told them that’s where we were going today. So that’s where we’re going. End of story,” she scoffed.
It was rare for anyone to disagree with Marley Bricket. It was usually me to do it. Of course, my disagreements got written off by the rest of the group without so much as a vote. If anything, I served to strengthen whatever point Marley happened to be making. But Aidy was number two, the de facto leader whenever Marley wasn’t around. Her defiance made the morning memorable.
“I’m sorry, when has that ever mattered?” Marley countered. “Didn’t your parents lie to everyone else anyway? They’re not even gonna be there!”
“Only for a few ho
urs! They’re out visiting family friends. They’ll be back by one. Two at the latest.”
Marley laughed. “Aidy, it’s barely nine in the morning.” She readjusted her sleep shirt to make it drape from her shoulder again. “We never get to look around my house. If my mom’s gone, my dad is here. This is the first time in forever they’re both out at the same time and we’re all around. I’m not passing this up. Plus, it’s gonna be hot out. I want to swim.”
“We got a new air conditioner, and my dad made homemade Popsicles last night,” Aidy countered.
A snorty, judgy giggle slipped out of me without warning.
Marley took it as bait. “Even your little sister knows how ridiculous that sounds.” She walked over and draped an arm across me. Claiming me. “Tell you what? Me and Ollie are staying. Right, Ollie?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Anyone else that wants to join us is more than welcome,” Marley added. “If you’re desperate for homemade Popsicles and AC, by all means, join Aidy. Sounds like a lovely afternoon.”
Teeny swerved around Aidy to grab her sleeping bag. She slung it over her shoulder, grabbed Bigs’s, and opened the door. “I’m taking my stuff home. Then I’m meeting Aidy at her house. Like I’ve told you a hundred times, my mom will know I went swimming if my hair is wet,” she said as she stared at Marley. “We’re not getting in trouble today. We’re supposed to get a puppy by the end of the week. Nobody’s messing that up for me.” She was so small, both bags covered her entire body. “Love you all or whatever. Goodbye.”
Bigs bowed his head and walked to the door. “See you guys later.” He stepped back to give Marley a hug. “Hope you find something,” he told her.
“Oh, I will,” she promised, looking Aidy dead in the eye.
The Campbell twins exited, leaving only Aidy, Harrison, Ruby, Nick, and me.
“Let’s go then, Aidy,” Harrison said. “I’ll make us breakfast.” He grabbed his bag and left without a goodbye, heading three doors down to my house.
Aidy didn’t follow. She cocked her head at me. “You’re really staying?” When I didn’t move, she clicked her tongue behind her teeth. “I’m going home and calling Mom and Dad, then. I’m not gonna get in trouble for you.” She swirled around and hurried out, leaving her sleeping bag behind.
“Such drama,” Marley said with a shake of her head. Her eyes lingered on the shut door. “Glad we’re done with them for now. Don’t need that dark energy clouding up my day. My little friends, let’s get down to the real business. We have much to do.”
“Actually,” Ruby croaked out. A fine line of sweat beaded up on her forehead, right where her braids began. Her hair, onyx black and too thick to all be held at once, had recently been cut above her shoulders. The two braids Teeny put in the night before wound back into two little buns, one on either side of her head, with short pieces clinging to the back of her neck. “I’m gonna go over to Ollie’s.”
I gasped. Ruby had a crush on Marley that everyone, including Marley, knew about. Ruby told me that sometimes it was like her feelings for Marley lassoed around her throat and she forgot how to breathe. I could see it then, how much effort she put into each inhale, her hands holding her ribs and pressing tight, trying to push the breath up and out.
“I’ll explain more later,” she whispered to me. “Love you.” She hurried out quickly, leaving her sleeping bag behind. I decided I’d bring it over to her later to get the scoop.
Only Marley, Nick, and I remained.
And Nick didn’t leave.
7
Aidy and I headed the wrong way. We ended up far out on the railroad tracks, nearing the famous POINT OF NO RETURN sign. The sun lowered with each step. Aidy stopped to stare. I matched her actions as a little sister should, the two of us holding our hands above our eyes to appreciate the beauty of Cadence on the cusp, flirting with night. We stood at the southeastern border, our backs to the open desert behind us, our eyes looking due west at our hometown.
Aidy laughed at herself. “Can you believe I said that to Marley’s mom?”
“I really can’t.”
“She was making me so mad! Her fight with Mr. Bricket was outrageous. Way more people were talking about that. What you did made people kind of—I don’t know. Sad, I guess.”
My breath dragged. “Yeah.”
Aidy dropped her visor hands to look at me. “Are you okay, though?”
“Obviously.”
She tossed a curious glance over her shoulder. “So, then…” she started.
“Nick,” I responded. His name had been on her lips since she’d woken me up that afternoon, and she’d yet to work up the courage to say it aloud. I had to do it for her, because I always had to be the one to handle the hard things. I was glad for the opportunity. I liked getting the chance to say his name without having to follow it with a reflection on what he’d done or how he’d failed to overcome it.
“Nick,” Aidy repeated, and his name once again became more story than title, the details of which unfolded in flashes of memories. Our neighbor Nick, the boy with a face so precious grown women couldn’t help but pinch it. Little Nicky Cline, the boy in my day care. The boy in my homeroom. The boy knocking on the door to ask if Ollie could come outside to play. The boy standing next to me in every photo from the first eleven years of my life. The boy who disappeared without an apology.
Nick Cline, the boy who killed Marley.
By accident, of course.
But terrible. So terrible.
“He showed up to the memorial. And I said hi. And, yeah,” I started.
“So you said hi and that was all that needed to be said to hold his hand and run off to Cadence Park together?”
“No.”
“But you did it anyway?”
“Obviously.”
“Olivia, I really don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us.”
“After all this time, he gets away with it because he’s cute?”
“What? Ew. No. Why would you say something like that?”
“There is no person on this planet who has hurt you more than him.”
“That’s not true.”
“Name one.”
“It isn’t about naming people. It’s about a misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding? What could be misunderstood about Nick pressing a gun into Marley’s gut, shooting her in front of you, and running away?”
I couldn’t get away from Aidy fast enough. Her contempt for what she didn’t understand. Her lack of empathy. She did not see Marley die. She did not know the way Marley coerced Nick and me into obeying her. She did not know what I knew.
“Olivia, wait,” Aidy called out, chasing after me. “Is there something I don’t know?”
Everything, I thought.
When I didn’t answer, Aidy fumbled for words. “About that day. Was it…did…did Marley…know…” I didn’t dare fill in that blank. Instead, I raised my eyebrows at her the way Dad had at me earlier in the day. She gritted her teeth and pressed on. “Did Marley know the gun was loaded?”
“Don’t be gross, Aidy.”
“Olivia, there’s letters. A box that maybe has her stuff. Tell me that doesn’t look like suicide.”
“Okay, I will. It doesn’t look like suicide. Thank you. Goodbye.”
“Come on. At least tell me how you even knew to find this stuff.”
It was going to be hard work to keep her off the scent of what had really happened, so I decided to share a different truth. “I remembered something Marley said about the Adventure.”
“That’s not even possible. She never told any of us about it. You’d be the last person she’d ever give information to.” Aidy always chose the worst times to belittle me, knowing the exact buttons to push to make me hot with rage.
“Oh yeah? Then how
come I’m the one who knows the most?”
“Fine. If that’s true, what did she say, exactly?”
She was always insulting my capacity for secret-keeping. “She said that it was going to be really different that year,” I told her. “It wasn’t going to have the same goal or something. No. Same purpose. She used that word. Purpose.”
“The only thing different about that year is Marley died, Olivia.” Aidy stared at me. “Come on. You can’t tell me you don’t see it.”
Nothing’s gonna happen, I heard as a memory, Marley whispering to Nick before he pulled the trigger. Everything is Something, my letter had said. If everything was something, then Marley must’ve known what nothing meant, because even nothing was something, and nothing happened to Marley, exactly like she said it would.
“No,” I whispered. Then my whisper became a statement. “No.” Then a command. “No.” Then a scream. “No! You don’t get to do this, Aidy!” I stalked off, tears streaming down my face. “You have no idea!”
“Then tell me!”
“Leave me alone! I want to be alone!” I kept walking, not bothering to look back.
Marley, I need a sign. Let me know she’s wrong.
The breeze stilled. My shoulders lightened.
Marley was lost.
And so was I.
Part Two
Titanium Lies
8
Aidy left me at the edge of the tracks, pressed between two rusted prongs of the train’s horizontal ladder. It seemed like I too would rot away, destined to become another artifact of a town that never let things go. Every street in Cadence had its own life, filled with children that became blood by address association. Every house its own story, passed from generation to generation. No matter how time weathered our town, Cadence crossed its arms and remained unchanged by the growth of the world around us. All residents accepted this destiny.
When the Light Went Out Page 7