Ruby started fitting all the hidden objects into the wooden box. Aidy took a permanent marker and wrote MARLEY. on the top. A period for a girl who did not deal in sort-ofs or maybes, yet left her whole life as a question mark for us to forever ponder.

Our whole group traveled down the center of Albany Lane. The sky had fallen into a deep slumber, so dark the streetlights could only touch the edges of each intersection, waiting for us like mile markers.

I took a spot next to Ruby at the back of our V. I didn’t need to be up front anymore. It made no difference. We’d all get there, whether or not I was the one to lead us. Instead, I snapshotted each person, determined to preserve the memory of the night.

Because there would be no next time. I felt it like I felt Marley. Impossible to explain, but real all the same. If there was an acceptable way to move that was slower than walking, like getting on my stomach and slithering toward Cadence Park, I would’ve done it, if only to hold on longer.

Teeny wore jean shorts and a navy-blue crop top that sat right above her navel, showing a hint of the tattoo that traced her ribs—her brother’s time of birth. Her braids were so long they almost covered the ink. She stretched her fingers out like the air was water to wade in, and she was testing the temperature.

The night was hers.

Bigs, in a maroon shirt and black mesh shorts, looked across the street to his twin as she did this, her motions a language he spoke fluently. He joined her in touching the night by looking up to the stars.

The night was his.

Harrison had on his old tennis team shirt. It said SHIN on the back, with MVP written below. He walked a few paces behind Aidy, following her as he always had. And maybe always would.

It seemed then that they were each other’s compasses, sometimes flitting too quickly between directions, but ultimately headed the same way. It was yet another Marley who had wedged between them, desperate to be acknowledged, the two of them not letting it happen, afraid of what it meant. I could see her there, sideways like Harrison and Aidy were connected rocks she’d hammered into, and she’d gotten stuck in the middle, so immobile she could do nothing but wait for them to notice. If they would let her pass all the way through, the jagged line she’d cut into each of them would sit flush, leaving only a hairline fracture in place of what was once a gaping hole. Then Aidy wouldn’t have to lead with anger all the time. She could heal.