I love Abi but she makes me so mad. She'll lay in the dirt in the corner of the garden, her head tucked under her arm, laying there like she's passed out or dead. I guess I understood why, but it makes me mad.
Just weeks ago we had so much fun. I'd play with her toys, and she'd play with mine. I'm always in charge, because she's such a scaredy cat. A nervous Nellie. She wants to fade away, like trees and such. Not like me. I'm a star. I'm special.
We're the only girls, little girls, so we share a bed, lying in the dark and talking about whatever we think about. We dream about crazy stuff, imagining things we can hardly put into words. We're not supposed to, but who's going to tell?
Abigail cries a lot. I cry sometimes, too, but for real reasons. Abigail cries about imaginary things.
Like her parents.
I told her, if her parents were real they'd be here. They aren't. I should be happy about that, but I feel sad for Abi, even though I'm right. I don't always understand why she is sad.
Daddy said we had to go. He stroked my cheek and smiled at me. I love him so much. He laughed as he pulled me off his leg. I wanted to hug him so tight.
I told Abi we had to go but she went to that corner of the garden and curled up in the shade of the bushes again. I told her we'd leave her behind. She said she wanted to be left behind. I felt sick.
Daddy came. He spoke to me. He spoke softly, but I could see he was angry at Abigail. I told him to wait. I would talk to her.
I crouched by her. I put my hand on her hip, then on her shoulder. She felt so cold, but she moved when I touched her.
"Abi, come with me," I said. "Come with me. It will be good where we go."
She rolled her head against her crooked arm. I heard a noise but it was not words.
I had my arm draped on her. I squeezed my fingers into her shoulder. What more could I do?
Daddy stood in the garden. He said something to me I did not hear. Then he spoke again, louder.
I sighed. My heart was broken. I was as sad as I could be. I clipped the tether onto Abigail's collar and jerked it hard.
"Come, Abigail," I said. I tugged the collar again.
She moaned. Not like a hurt sound, like a sad sound.
I tugged on the collar again, harder this time. Daddy leaned over me. I knew he wanted to help.
Abigail did not want to leave the corner of the garden where she was lying. I shrugged off my daddy's help and readied myself for a final effort to shift Abigail. I regretted telling her that was where we buried her parents. They weren't even buried where I said they where.