Skye's the limit

She sits beside me in class. We talk a lot, often about things that don’t matter. Marshall doesn’t like that. He tells me since we have forever been in the same class, I should spend more time with him. I understand where he is coming from. No one likes Marshall. Everybody loves him, but no one likes to be seen with him. Marshall thinks it is because he is homosexual. I usually assure him it’s not, but today I let him think what he pleases. Today Skye looks different.

Her bob is colored light pink. People stare at her as she walks down the halls towards us, but she remains oblivious to their gaze. She smiling, holding up something for me to see. I can’t assess what it is from this far. She stumbles over a binder that falls from someone’s hand. A boy helps her stand back up. He’s unabashedly staring at her. She whispers a thank you and rushes towards me.

When she’s close I notice tears in her eyes despite her smile. Today marked her brother’s one-year death anniversary. I knew him and Skye. I’d seen them around although we never went to the same school. Skye shifted here the week after he died because the halls and classes brought back a flood of memories.

“Askenn left me a letter,” she says through her tears. “Mom gave it to me today. She said she shouldn’t have but she read it because he hadn’t left her and dad any. She says the letter is something personal for me and that Askenn implies he might know who was after his life.” She says all this in one breath, so I miss out on a few words.

“Implies what?” I ask. She hiccups, restraining her tears. Marshall shoots me an annoyed look that I’m being so insensitive. He pulls her toward him and Skye happily rests her forehead against his chest. They stay like that a minute until she is calm, then he gently pulls back and kisses her forehead.

“That’s great news, Skye. Maybe you could take it to the court again now that you have evidence.” Although he is constantly miffed by how close Skye and I got, he cares a lot about her. He lets a strand of her hair fall through his fingers.

“This color suits you.”

“Askenn had dared me to do it for my 16^th birthday. I never got around to doing it. Mostly because I was apprehensive how it would look with my natural brown.”

She was right. I hadn’t seen many brunettes color their hair that pink. There was a synchronous groan that sounded more like a guttural scream when the overhead speakers announced a fire drill. Missing classes seemed less appealing when standing in the sun for hours at end was its alternative.

I trudged with the others towards the open grounds, feigning annoyance. But really, my body was on high alert. My senses that had piqued when Skye had brought up her brother’s demise still sent chills up my spine. I sneak a look at her sideways. She’s waving her arms around animatedly, tears flowing down her face as she recalls memories she’d made with Askenn.

Marshall nudges me, raising his eyebrows at me. I shake my head, reassuring him that nothing is wrong. Someone shouts “Hey fag, how you doing” as we pass by. My arm shoots out unconsciously and I pull it back, satisfied at the red on my knuckles. Marshall just stares at his feet as we walk, Skye cursing over her shoulder. See, this is why I like her. Wish her brother was more like her.

When we get home, I excuse myself and go straight to my room. I’ve been preparing for this day too long. When Skye asks me if I would accompany her to the memorial, I shake my head. She seems dejected, but I tell her this is something she should do with her family. She smiles then, gives me a tight hug, and skips down the stairs to the hall.

I sit down, pulling out an envelope from under my desk. No one knows it is there. I got it built in once when my family was out of the house. Those days, I used to live in perpetual fear. Because I never seemed to have enough saved up. I recheck the locks on my door then empty the contents.

Before I start counting, I’m distracted by voices floating up to my room through the open window. I lean down, catching sight of mom and dad giving Skye their condolences. Mom is tearing up; I can tell even from here. She is probably thinking about how she would hold up if she lost a child. I sigh, pushing away from the ledge and sitting back on the bed.

I count $1870. I worked hard to earn this money. Doing odd jobs during my school breaks. And working regular shifts at the local grocer's bagging groceries. It interferes with my schoolwork sometimes, but I can’t be persuaded to quit. I need this money, I think, examining the notes. I consider telling my dad for a moment but laugh it off. No way I can tell anyone about this.

A couple hours later, Marshall knocks on my door. I jerk up from my bed where I’ve fallen asleep, stuffing the money back into the envelope and securing it in its spot under the desk. When I open the door, I’m a little taken aback at how he looks. He’s clad in a dark blue sweater with a starch white-collar poking out from under it. The shirt is cuffed at the wrists, enhancing the look. I give him a once over, then clear my throat.

“Where is this coming from?” I ask. He winces a little, looking down at himself.

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” I reply, looking at him again. The sweater accentuates his toned body. I think for a moment of telling him he would attract girls left and right if he was straight, but banish that thought. He doesn’t need that type of criticism. I meet his gaze again –

“All I asked is what brought this change. You don’t usually dress like this.”

He shrugs, walking into my room and settling on the armchair. “I thought I’d try something different. See if that appeals to the male gender,” he adds, winking at me. I shake my head at him even as he speaks.

“No, no, no, Marshall, you don’t need to do this. You don’t have to jazz it up for them. You are handsome and if they can’t see it then they don’t deserve it.”

He smiles warmly at me, but then his attention is directed at something on the floor. He picks up a piece of paper.

“What’s this for?” he asks, handing me the paper. There is $1870 written in an elaborate manner. The color drains from my face, but I shrug.

“I don’t know when this is from,” I say. Even as I say it, I know Marshall doesn’t believe me. I have always been unable to lie. Especially to him.

“Hey, what’s going on? Do you like need money or something? Were you counting how much you have? What is this for? I’m sure I have enough saved up if you need … you don’t have to tell me what this is for, it’s okay. As long as you’re not paying anyone to like kill me or anything,” he laughs. I smile at him, shaking my head.

“No, no. I don’t need money. But yes, I was counting. Just saving up for college, you know. I don’t want to ask dad to cover the book costs too. You know how tight our budget is.” He nods understandingly, squeezing my shoulder.

“Okay but anytime you need …” I nod, then tug at his arm.

“How’s Skye? Have you spoken to her?” I ask as we head down to dinner. He shakes his head.

“Went straight to voicemail. She probably doesn’t want to speak with anyone right now. We will talk to her on Monday.”

You can talk to her, I think. I don’t think I can last that long, Marshall. I look at him sadly for a long minute, but he doesn’t notice. Leaving him behind is going to be the hardest part of this all. I don’t know when I can come back to him when I leave. If I can ever risk coming back to him.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Dear Marshall,

A letter is good. A letter is a good idea. I hadn’t thought of it up until Skye brought up the one Askenn left for her. But then again, if it wasn’t for that darned letter, maybe I wouldn’t need to write you one. I’m not going to make this long. You need to know a few things, Marshall. Just enough for you to remain calm and be content in the memories we made.

1.      I know who killed Askenn. I know no one will ever suspect her because she didn’t know them well back then. But anyway, he was going to hurt you, Marshall. Physically. And break you emotionally. Until there was only a shell left of the amazing person you are.

He was poisoned. They didn’t think it would kill him, but it did.

2.      I can’t lie. To you or anyone. I’ve kept the truth hidden long enough. But I can’t anymore. When Skye goes to court, they are going to question all of us. I can’t lie to save my life, Marshall.

3.      Probably the most important thing of all, I love you. And I’m doing this all for you. But never for a moment blame yourself for my death because I don’t blame you.

With love,

Aoife

-x-x-x-x-x-

I trace my fingers over his lovely smile, dimples shining through the cracked photograph. He hadn’t known I was taking that picture, hence the smile. He is usually unreasonably conscious of his smiles. It’s cute, though.

Tears gather at the corner of my eyes, but I blink them away. He turns 21 today. It’s been 4 years, and I miss home. But I can’t go back. That door can never open to welcome me again. I grab my car keys and walk out, fingering his smile one last time.

My dear brother Marshall. I can kill for you, again.