From the second I saw him at the memorial, the mark of Marley’s work was clear in Nick’s presence. As he stood there, trembling, it was clear as a Marley blue sky in July.

Marley wanted to release Nick. Give him back to us.

The night was as much for me as it was for her. I’d never shared that kind of responsibility before. Never shared anything at all. It made me so light, I was glad for the hands that helped me back down, because without them, I would’ve sailed up forever, never to return again.

Finally, it was my turn to speak. The grand finale. It was a familiar place for me to be, in front of a crowd, preparing to tell a story about Marley. But for the first time, I was going to tell the stories I’d swallowed.

Word by word, I handed my Marley over to my friends. I told them about the melatonin cookies and the Marquez family’s car.

Ruby gasped. “That was you?”

I told them about all the afternoons in Marley’s mom’s closet.

I told them about the California quail. How it was alive, even though it was dead.

I told them everything.

When I finished, everyone stood and wrapped their arms around me. I was patched up and damaged and a little off-center, but all myself, amazed to learn my friends were willing to hold the excess I could no longer carry.

I was just Olivia Stanton, sixteen years old. Older than Marley would ever be. Younger than everyone else. Both a cannonball from the sky, arcing back to the ground, and a cannonball in the water, rushing back to the surface.

I was back.

That was the point.

Night became night that was actually morning. It was convex, pushing up from all surfaces, preparing for the next sunrise. I threw my handful dirt atop the box.

Finally, we’d remembered her right.

“I took this from our other box,” Ruby said.

In her hands was a picture of the eight of us in Marley’s pool. Teeny’s eyes were closed. Harrison was midjump, his whole torso a blur. Aidy was looking at him, stern. Bigs and I were photo ready, smiles wider than our faces, arms wrapped around each other like sorority sisters. Nick was solemn. Ruby was fixing her swim top. Marley was looking up.

It was a self-timed photo Marley thought she’d deleted from her camera roll. Ruby had secretly sent it to herself then printed it out for us to keep. It had always been our favorite, forever sitting at the top of our box of trinkets.

Ruby held the photo to her heart. “No stops,” we said to each other, not because we needed the reminder, but because we knew we’d done it. We’d crossed our finish line. The secret picture fell from Ruby’s hands and fluttered into place atop the rest of Marley’s belongings.