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.

Bigs and Harrison picked up the shovels and start tossing back large piles of dirt. When they were done, we stomped the loose soil back into place.

The seven of us went back how we came until we arrived in the upstairs bedroom of the haunted house. We unfurled our mangled sleeping bags and tucked ourselves underneath, leaving the string lights as our constellations.

Nick wrapped his arms around me, and I pressed against his torso, no longer needing the light of an imagined sky to find sleep.

20

Thanks to the blackout curtains and Nick’s body, morning did not get to intrude upon me. One last little gift from our best Marley.

Nick was stuck on me. Literally stuck. Our skin had congealed in the growing afternoon heat. I peeled myself away, leaving his white shirt drenched with the impression of me.

“It’s hot,” I noted.

“I don’t mind,” he said.

I curled back into him once more.

A few other sleeping bags were rolled into tight bundles, same as the lights. Only Harrison was still upstairs with us. He said, “Breakfast,” and headed out of the room.

Nick and I followed the promise of food all the way out the front door and over to my house, where the rest of the previous night’s remnants had already been returned.

“Afternoon,” Bigs said once we entered the kitchen. He and Teeny sat where Aidy and I had the day before. They were eating pancakes, just as we’d done twenty-four hours prior. Twins of circumstance, I remembered with a smile.

“Dad made those,” Aidy told me. “I found a huge stack on the kitchen counter, along with instructions on how to best reheat them, as well as a very long, extremely detailed list of things we have to get done today if we expect to ever survive life again.”

“Joy,” I said, still taking in the confusion of the morning, marred by a blaring headache.