"Pretty girls like you get lost in these woods all the time, Alexa."
On the night of Sebastián's annual Beginning of Summer Bash, amiable and adventurous Melody Tryniski went missing. What might have appeared as a juvenile escapade - a casual incide...
Levittown's riverbank September 27, 2018 1:05 a.m.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"SO, YOU HAD A dream."
With a stick I found on my way to the riverbank, I poke at the water and move it in circular motions until I hear a satisfying splash. The river is so clear and still tonight, resembling the surface of a mirror. My reflection stares back at me, a lost girl who's too tired to speak. She's the version of me that only exists during the night, vulnerable and weak, a walking embodiment of secrets and memories.
I break my reflection, along with those of the trees and the stars and the moon, with a simple flicker of my wrist. Nature's image surrounds me, it floats around my own reflection, reminding me of how rotten I really am. Rotten, rotten, rotten, it has my name written all over it. There's a full moon hovering over us, and although it may seem beautiful as it casts its silver light on the river and us, the thought of seeing it so close to perfection near my reflection makes me sick.
"A nightmare," I mumble, bringing my knees to my chest.
"I don't know the difference," Christopher says, his voice an echo in these silent woods.
I watch him through my peripheral vision, seeing wisps of his blonde hair flying atop his head. We're sitting down on the dirt near the river, a distance away from Sebastián's summer house, but close enough to Melody's sacred place. Our sacred place. We're even closer to each other - his right thigh softly brushes against my left one from time to time.
"What do you mean?"
"I almost never dream and when I do..." He pauses, shifts on his spot. "Let's just say, things get ugly."
I gulp down the lump that's been forming in my throat ever since I left the house and nod. It's weird, but I understand. "I haven't been able to dream since my mom's death." I finally say it out loud, biting down on my lower lip to refrain from crying. "That was ten years ago. I dreamt today. She was in it. I think it was a memory in the form of a dream."
"That sounds nice," Christopher whispers, his voice in tune with that of the soft breeze.
I place my head on my knees, my gaze now focused on him. He looks so angelical at this time of morning, soft and sweet, his true self. The glint of moonlight on the water catches his eyes, making them seem transparent, almost like icy crystals. My heart picks up speed at the sight.
"Until it was not." I laugh, but it's short, barely honest. "She used to do this thing with my hair. It was always wild and unmanageable. Tangled knots used to form on the back of my head," I say, touching the spot with a small smile on my face. "They still do. She would sit cross-legged behind me on the bed, wet her hands with coconut oil and spread it on my hair with the brush of her fingertips. She would hum a soft tune and sing about how hard it was for a pretty girl like me to live in a pretty ugly world like this one. It always made me sad, despite not understanding what it meant."
