The Night Sister

Crystal lived in the trailer with her boyfriend, Ray. Ray was a bartender at a place in Barre where they had topless dancers (Piper had learned this from Margot). He was at work when Piper got there, but she saw evidence of him: a pair of large black motorcycle boots, a chipped coffee mug that said RAY on the kitchen counter, a photo of Crystal and a heavyset man with greasy black hair on the fridge.

Piper watched as Lou sipped at her can of Coke. She started to explain that she was an old friend of Lou’s mother’s, and that they had played together back when they were girls only a little older than she. That had made Lou smile, the idea that her own mother had been young once—as young as her, even.

“We used to roller-skate at the bottom of that old pool at the motel,” Piper told her.

The girl suddenly smiled. “I’ve skated there, too!” she said. “I got bit by a spider down there once.”

“Ouch,” Piper said.

Lou nodded. “They live in the drain. It was a bad bite; it turned into this big old open sore that took forever to heal, and Mama wouldn’t let me go in the pool anymore.”

Piper gave a little shiver.

“I have to skate in the driveway now, but it’s all pebbles. Sometimes Mama takes me to the bike path and then we—” She cut herself off. Her face looked so serious, and Piper felt all the breath leave her as she again realized how like Amy this girl was—the pouting lips, blue eyes with extra-long lashes, a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

Without thinking, Piper reached out a hand to stroke her straggly hair. She longed to brush it, to put little bows in it—something bright and cheerful. She thought of how Amy used to dye her bangs bright colors with Jell-O.

The girl flinched, and Piper pulled her hand away.

“I bet that was nice, riding on the bike path,” Piper said.

Lou’s eyes got stormy (again, just like Amy’s) before she took a deep breath and closed them. “Aunt Crystal, she says it’s okay to still love Mama, no matter what she’s done. She says we’ve got to remember the good things about Mama.”

Piper nodded.

“I got a friend who collects butterflies,” Lou said suddenly. “Kendra. She’s not very nice. Sometimes she rips the wings right off while they’re still alive.”

“That doesn’t sound very nice at all,” Piper agreed.

Lou nodded. “Sometimes she’s mean to me, too.”

“What does she do?”

Lou squeezed her Coke can, denting the sides. “Calls me stupid because I’m not so good with math and spelling. I get bad grades on quizzes and stuff. Mama always says there are different kinds of smart.”

Piper nodded. “She’s absolutely right.”

The girl smiled at Piper, but then the smile faded. She started to pick at the skin around her thumbnail.

“Why did you come to see me?” Lou asked.

“Because I wanted to meet you.”

Lou nodded and gave the Coke can another hard squeeze. “Do you want me to tell it like it happened?”

“What’s that, love?”

“Every grown-up who’s come says”—Lou puffed up her chest and put on a deep, authoritative voice—“In your own words, tell us what happened.”

It reminded Piper of something Amy would have done.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Piper said, heart thudding. This was why she was here—wasn’t it?—but suddenly she didn’t want the girl to tell her what happened. She just wanted to sit here, sipping Cokes, and ask her more about school, about her friends. She wanted to find some little way to make Lou’s life better, a tiny bit normal, not be just another adult ready to drag her through the horror of what had happened that night.

Lou shrugged. “I don’t mind, I guess. The more I tell it, the more it becomes like a story. A real bad story that happened to some other girl.”