Marley never issued a challenge without a pledge of allegiance. Even on the day she died, she’d made our group choose between swimming at her house when we weren’t supposed to, or sitting inside my house watching movies, like we’d all told our parents we were going to do.

“Sorry,” I said to Nick.

Marley always won.

The sliding door rumbled as I pulled it open. Not loud, but not quiet either. I approached the master bedroom, slow-motion skating down the hall to avoid creaks in the floor. The shadow of a seated Mr. Bricket stretched out onto the new hardwood to my right. If I moved as a blur, chances were good he wouldn’t notice me. His shadow shape told me he held his head in his hands.

On the tips of my toes, I leapt across the doorway. My heart started beating so hard, it felt like it might break through my sternum. The hallway was dark, but I found my way to Marley’s room without an issue, still pattering along on the balls of my feet.

Why now? I asked her. I wasn’t ready for the Adventure to begin.

A hand brushed my hair. I gasped, half expecting to find Marley behind me. “Sorry. I can’t really see,” Nick breathed. I pressed my hand into his chest to collect myself. “Hey,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

The weight of his nearness threatened to crush me. He said, “I’ll keep watch,” just in time, pulling Marley’s door closed to give me the space I needed.

I exhaled.

Inside Marley’s world, I felt safe, as if I’d walked into a memory I could never outgrow. Save for the clothes Ms. DeVeau dropped at my doorstep almost five years prior, Marley’s bedroom remained unchanged. The air held faint traces of the sugary sweet perfume she left as a fog over every room she entered. Magazine pages remained collaged over her walls, framing the vanity that carried the keys to crafting her many identities. Her collection of plush pillows, in blushing pinks and soft blues, stayed composed like an editorial spread. Her nightstand had three drawers, the bottom of which was padlocked. This was where the Adventure started.

It’s time, isn’t it? I asked.

A single gentle knock came from the closed door. Once for all clear.