Lydia
Simone has pretty much become my shadow.
Or maybe I’m hers. Either way, we move together now.
We do everything together—classes, schoolwork, hanging out at her house where everything smells like laundry detergent and whatever last meal was cooked, where the floors don’t creak, the rooms aren’t dirty, and no one yells unless they’re laughing.
She lives in a neighborhood ten minutes away from me, so her family isn’t rich or anything, but they feel pretty rich—in love, in the way they talk to each other, in the way they treat everyone. It’s the kind of rich I wanna be one day.
I spend most days after school at her house now.
Camilla has been working more and more shifts at her job, and when she’s not there, she’s out—parties, friends, or with her new boyfriend.
He seems sweet, I guess, even if his eyes never seem to focus when he talks to you.
I try not to ask too many questions, though.
I don’t want to risk pushing her away. She’s been so distant lately.
I don’t want to do anything that will cause her to slip too far away from me.
As much as I love my sister and wish it were just us living together, I can’t help how much easier it is to breathe when I’m at Simone’s, when I’m somewhere else, not in that house.
Simone instantly became the new popular girl at school.
I mean, with a personality like hers, of course everyone is drawn to her.
And somehow being her new best friend means no one messes with me anymore.
It’s kind of nice. It’s not like anyone tries to be my friend, but they at least know to leave me alone now.
She doesn’t take shit from anyone, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone on my behalf now, too.
Today’s her birthday, so everyone has been stuck up her ass all day.
But I don’t mind. She asked me if I wanted to spend the night with her so we could celebrate, just the two of us, so it doesn’t really bother me when people take up all of her attention at school.
I told her I needed to go home after to grab some clothes and a couple of things I’d need, and she said she’d just catch the bus with me back to my place, then have her mom pick us up.
In the last couple of months, we’ve only ever gone over to her house. I don’t wanna bring her to my place. I’ve always been embarrassed by where I live. But I know Simone never judges. It’s what I love most about her. As uneasy as I feel about bringing anyone around, I trust her.
When we step off the school bus and head towards my house, some guys who are standing outside whistle at us, calling us pretty, and telling us to come talk to them.
Simone is pretty tall for her age, so she looks much older than thirteen.
I’m still very underdeveloped in all departments, and I’ve been pretty underweight my whole life—that happens when you grow up relying on only yourself and your older sister to find any food around because your parents never kept enough in the house, and the foster homes we live in aren’t much better at providing basic needs.
I wish I had curves like Simone. At thirteen, she already has boobs and a butt that all the guys at school talk about.
We ignore the creepy guys outside, and Simone flips them off as we walk up to my house.
“You can stay out here if you want,” I tell her. “It’s always a mess in there.”
“Girl, I don’t care about that.” She pushes past me and opens the door, grabbing my hand and walking inside. “Where’s your room?”
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t make a face, doesn’t have any reaction to the house I’m always looking at in disgust. I point down the hall to the room with no door on it, and she heads in that direction.
Thankfully, Miles is in his room with the door closed and music blaring, which means we won’t have to see or talk to him.
When we walk into my room, I see Alexis sitting crisscrossed on the floor, playing with some kind of sticker book in her school uniform still.
Camilla is standing by the closet, rummaging through a bin.
When she sees us, she quickly stands up and shoves the little bag that was in her hand into her pocket.
It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots, but I don’t say anything.
She forces a smile. “Hey, girls. How was your day?”
Simone smiles back genuinely. “It was good! Tyler brought me a little cupcake for my birthday. I think he might…like me,” she says, giggling.
She’s had a crush on Tyler since the first week she moved here, and I think he’s just as obsessed with her but won’t say it.
He plays on our middle school basketball team and is pretty popular too, but he’s a lot shyer than Simone.
I think that’s why she likes him. The whole opposites-attract thing might actually work for them.
Camilla walks over and hugs Simone. “Happy birthday, girl,” she whispers.
“Um, Simone wants me to spend the night with her for her birthday. Can you tell Aretha for me? Her mom is going to come pick us up. Can you get me in the morning since you’re not working?”
Camilla smiles at me. “Of course, y’all go have fun. Just be safe and call or text me from Simone’s phone if you need anything, okay?”
I nod and then hug her. She squeezes me back and kisses me on the top of my head, telling me bye.
Simone and I end up sitting outside on the curb, just talking until Simone’s mom pulls up. When we get in the car, her mom has a huge gift bag in the front seat for her.
Simone squeals. “Is this my gift?”
“Yes, baby,” her mom says. “But get in before you open it.”
We both slide into the back seat before she hands Simone the bag. When she pulls the tissue paper out, she screams in excitement. “No way!”
I start to get excited with her suddenly, and peek over to see her pull out a brand new pair of pink sneakers and rose gold headphones.
I suddenly have this strange feeling. It’s not jealousy…
longing, maybe? Camilla is the only person in my entire life to get me a birthday gift…
ever. I don’t remember getting a birthday gift or a gift for any holiday from my parents—not that I really remember many of my birthdays before my ninth one, so I can’t actually be sure about that.
Simone has been showered all day with gifts and treats, and it all seems so normal to her. I wonder what that feels like.
Once we’re back at her house, we race upstairs to her room, and I toss my backpack onto her bed before I pull out a little box for her.
“Here,” I tell her, handing her the little pink box I got from the dollar store. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s all I could get. And it was made with love.”
Simone happily takes the box and opens it. She has the biggest smile on her face as she pulls out the pink bracelet I made with both of our names on it.
I pull out the matching one from my bag and hold it up. “Friendship bracelets,” I say, smiling nervously, hoping she likes it.
“OMG! These are sooo cute, Lydia!”
“You like it? I know it’s not any fancy gift, but—”
“Girl, I love it…and I love you! You made this for me. That’s sweeter than any stupid gift from the store!”
Having someone as sweet as her around is still jarring sometimes.
I’m not used to anyone being so genuine and nice, someone who doesn’t care about what anyone else thinks, or cares about ‘being cool’.
Even though she is, you can tell it doesn’t faze her.
She’s just herself, and people flock to her because of that.
She doesn’t seek out the attention or make others around her feel less than because of it.
She reminds me of my sister in all the best ways.
They’re the only two people who have ever really cared about me.
After dinner with her parents, we end up watching all our favorite movies together, and eating way too many snacks while she braids my hair into two French braids, lying on her bedroom floor.
When it’s time to get ready for bed, I go to grab some PJs out of my bag and realize I left the other bag I packed with all my shower stuff and toothbrush in it.
“Crap!” I mutter.
Simone looks over at me as she’s buttoning up her hot pink checkered pajama set. “What?”
“I left my other bag right by my door when we rushed out earlier. It had all my shower stuff in it.”
“Oh dang. Wanna see if Camilla can drop it off?”
“Yeah, where’s your phone?”
She points to her bed where her phone—in that ridiculously big pink heart silicone phone case—is lying, plugged up.
If someone didn’t know that Simone’s favorite color was pink, they’d have to be the most oblivious and blind person on the planet.
I pick it up and type in the passcode 7465, unlocking the phone. Camilla’s number is already saved, so I just pull up the contact list and hit call.
No answer.
I call again. And again.
I call five times.
Still, nothing.
She always answers.
“I know she’s home, so what the heck?”
I send a couple of texts and wait to see if she replies.
Simone looks over at me. “She probably just went to bed early. I mean, I have an extra new toothbrush and soap if you need them for your shower. We can try to call her in the morning, make sure she’s still good to come pick you up.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
Something feels off, but I let it go. She probably just passed out early. She’s been working so much, and having tonight and tomorrow off has been the first real break she’s had in a while.
We end up going back to watching TV and talking until we pass out for the night, finally letting go of any of the worrying I was doing.
* * *
I barely slept. I woke up so many times; it was frustrating. I feel dead tired this morning, and Simone basically had to drag me out of bed and force me to get dressed.
After I packed all my things up, I tried to call my sister again, and it just went straight to voicemail without even ringing, as if her phone was dead or turned off.
I had to ask Simone’s mom if she could drop me off at home on her way to work, and thankfully, she told me that was fine.
She said she would make us all some breakfast first before we headed out.
Simone’s dad had already left for work, so it was just us girls as we all ate together and then got in the car.
Simone was getting dropped off at her grandma’s for the day, and we hugged before she got out.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” I tell her.
She waves and tells me bye before walking up to the house.
The drive to my house is pretty quiet. I’m always quiet around adults when I’m alone.
I never know what to say to them, or how to have a conversation with anyone really who isn’t Camilla or Simone.
When we get to my house, she pulls up to the curb and lets me out.
I wave to her and tell her thank you for driving me home.
As I’m walking up to the front door, I realize Aretha’s car isn’t in the driveway, which means she probably didn’t come home last night, leaving Camilla stuck watching Alexis, which is probably why she was too busy to answer.
As soon as I walk into the house, everything feels off.
It’s cold, even though it’s barely just now fall time, which in the south still means warm weather.
Something twists in the pit of my stomach, but I can’t place what it is.
This deep dread quickly takes over my body, and I hate the feeling.
I want it to go away. Walking past the living room, I see Miles passed out on the couch with the TV still on.
I keep walking, heading down the hall into my room, where Alexis is sitting on the floor playing with her dolls, crayons scattered everywhere around her.
Camilla is still asleep in the bed, facing the wall.
“I’m hungry, Lydia,” Alexis tells me. “Camilla won’t get up.”
I walk over and plop down onto the bed next to my sister.
“Camilla,” I sing-song, trying to get her attention.
She doesn’t even stir, so I go to shake her shoulder.
When my hand touches her skin, she’s ice cold—not just the kind of cold from not having the covers on you all night, but like, icebox cold.
I quickly roll her over with both hands, and I suddenly can’t breathe.
“Camilla—Camilla!” I shake her harder. “Wake up! Please—please wake up!” I keep screaming, and I can hear Alexis starting to cry behind me, but I can’t stop.
“No, no, no, no, no. Camilla! Please! Miles!” I turn my head, screaming into the hallway. “MILES!”
A moment later, a groggy, half-asleep Miles walks up to the bedroom door. “What the hell is wrong with you—”
“Miles, CALL 911, NOW! Camilla isn’t breathing; she’s…she’s blue…she’s not breathing!”
Miles quickly fumbles for his phone and dials 911.
Everything after that moment blurred. It felt like forever before I heard the ambulance sirens outside the house.
I was still holding onto her when a paramedic had to physically pry me off.
They tried everything: Narcan, CPR, they even brought out the defibrillator, but there was no point to keep trying by then.
She was gone. She had been gone at that point.
I couldn’t breathe. I felt dizzy and sick. I couldn’t even stand up, and when my legs finally gave out, a medic had to help me sit down against one of the walls in the room.
I watched as Aretha showed up and took Alexis and Miles out of the house. She didn’t even look like she cared when she walked past me.
Why does nobody care?
My heart was just ripped out of my chest, and everyone is just watching me like they have no idea how to help.
I don’t remember standing up, but when I see them lift her onto the stretcher with a white sheet over her body, I’m running to her.
“NO! You can’t take her! Please…I didn’t even get to say goodbye!”
I’m not sure if anyone can even hear what I’m saying through the painful sobs coming out of me.
“She’s all I have! Please!”
But what can they do?
They can’t bring her back.
They can’t stop the hammer that continues to hit the already shattered pieces of my heart.