Darcy is Not Dead

3: The first of several extra miles

Every spring, their ma removed the screens and hosed them down in the backyard and at some point, one never made it back to its original place: Darcy's bedroom. Darcy discovered this fact when she was twelve and curious about shingles (of the roof variety).

Thus was how Alice found herself screaming from her second story bedroom thinking a strange man had climbed onto their roof to kidnap her.

"Pipe down! It's just me," Darcy had said, and her partial buzz-cut became a little less suspicious.

Alice recalled staring at her sister like they were on opposite sides of the glass at an aquarium.

"Put some shoes on! Meet me in my room," Darcy said, pointing in her bedroom's direction like Alice couldn't hear her through the glass. She followed up with a thumb's up, which skittish, shy, nine-year-old Alice returned with a wary smile back.

Back then, Alice didn't have the words to explain to her parents what sort of clothes she wanted to wear. Her misunderstanding landed her in frilly, brightly patterned skirts with tule linings. At eighteen, she now had the words to describe that particular fashion statement: tacky and beyond conspicuous on their roof.

Darcy had grabbed her by the wrists through the open window frame. Alice had never pushed her hands beyond the usual mesh screen before. It sent a jolt through her entire system like her feet were suddenly in open air. They were indeed in the air a split second later when Darcy heaved her over the frame with an exuberant, "Alley-oop!"

"Darcy!" Alice cried, kicking until her sneakers touched the shingles.

"Feel 'em," Darcy said, and put Alice's bare hand on the gritty roof.

For a moment, it didn't burn. And then it spread like a fire through the back of her hand.

Before Alice could make her pain known, her eyes caught on Darcy's devilish glee. "Bet we could cook eggs out here," Darcy said.

Amazement took over as her hand acclimated to the heat. "You think so?"

"I know so. We need tinfoil, maybe a magnifying glass... Do you still have that one from Grandpa?" she asked, and Alice nodded. Darcy seized her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. "This is gonna be awesome. You get that, I'll get the egg and tinfoil."

They forgot to factor in the slope of the roof, so the freshly cracked egg slid down the shingles and fried bright white on the way down. Their ma thought a bird took a shit the size of an egg on the roof, to which Darcy laughed and Alice turned the other way to avoid telling the truth. After that, Darcy spent a lot of time on the roof. They both did.

If Darcy knew there was roof access, and if it was in such close proximity, Alice knew Darcy would take the bait. On the high chance Darcy did make it onto the roof, she might have left something there. Late at night during that first week of college, Alice liked to fantasize that Darcy had left a superhero-branded tin up there full of clues for Alice to find. Most probably, though, she'd find graffiti like in the bathroom stalls at their boarding school.

Even if Alice made it up there just to find "Julius sucks eggs" written in sharpie on a wall, she'd consider it a win. At the very least, that would tell Alice that her sister hadn't completely lost her mind.

The hardware shop wasn't far from campus. It was coupled with a secondhand university bookstore where a cluster of students were waiting in line for the opportunity to buy their textbooks at half the price. Alice would have done the same if her parents hadn't warned her months ahead of time.