Lucy watched as Mary loaded trash and various refuse into the burn barrel to fuel the fire dancing behind the trailer. It had not yet been an entire week since Lucy’s father died unexpectedly in his sleep. Lucy hardly missed him. She thought she missed someone else instead. She missed plastic costume jewelry. Most of all, Lucy missed how often she would watch Mary scribble the shapes of letters and words into the diary. Mary hadn’t written anything all week. Lucy wondered if her mother would think it awful that she would miss these things more than a father.
Lucy noticed other changes in Mary. Mary dyed her hair from red-tinged brown to a very deep sheen of black. Mary began listening to the mixed tapes Queenie once blared from her small stereo. Mary now slept by herself in Mary’s old room and left the television flickering through the night. Of all those changes, Lucy noticed most how Mary no longer wrote words at all since Mr. Christensen had died. That change puzzled Lucy the most.
So that afternoon, silent Lucy followed Mary out of the trailer to the back yard. She did not sneak upon Mary. Mary was well aware that Lucy was behind her. Only, Mary paid Lucy little notice and instead focused her attention on the lighting of a fire. Lucy did not say a word as she watched Mary load the burn barrel before dowsing the contents with charcoal, lighter fluid. Mary didn’t say a thing as she dropped the match and summoned the flame.
Lucy never suspected what Mary planned until it was too late, and Lucy cried when she realized what was burning amongst so much trash thrown in the burn barrel.
“Mary would never burn her diary!” Lucy screamed at the older sister, with the strange, black hair, who claimed to be Mary. “Where is Mary?”
Lucy cringed when the girl pet her head with a teasing hand and conspicuous smile. “Mary’s gone, squirrel. I have come to take care of you now.”
Tears blurred Lucy’s sight. Sobs made her words hard to say. “Who are you?”
The older sister smiled and winked. “My name is Belle.”