**

The Sun's fire flares

 Moon blinded by radiance

The darkness follows

**

We won the game, but it was close. I’ve been a goalie since middle school. By high school, I liked to think I’d gotten pretty good, but my head just wasn’t in it that night. All I could think about was Daphne and Seth and Daphne and Seth, my brain completely commandeered by the two of them, leaving no room for the soccer ball hurtling toward me. No one would be congratulating me anyway. My mom was out with friends and, well, she was the only one who ever came, so as soon as the game was called, I jogged back to the locker room. I changed out of my cleats and peeled off my pads in record speed, sprinting toward the place Seth and I had agreed on meeting. 

“Why by the pool?” I’d asked earlier that day.

“Because the lock is loose. You can use a credit card or something to bypass it pretty easily,” he’d informed me, as if this was common knowledge.

“And you know how to do this because…?” 

“It’s not the first time I’ve broken in. Rachel and I used to every now and then. It’s creepy at night.”

He was right. Even as I ran, muscles already tired and sore from the game, the odd stillness of the campus unnerved me. I’d only been here after dark for games and occasionally conferences, but I’d never felt the need to go exploring by the pool. Everything was too quiet, too dark. Every shadow looked, for a split second, like some kind of cryptic monster. I ran even faster, my pulse pumping in my ears, my breath rattling in my lungs. 

As I turned the corner I saw Seth crouched by the poolside. I stopped and stood still for a moment, forcing my breathing to slow. He hadn’t noticed me yet. 

He stared into the water, eyes shadowed by his hood like always, but his jaw was lit by the green-tinged underwater lights. The pool was usually open to the public over the summer but hadn’t been cleaned since then, meaning there was a thin coat of dead leaves and insects dotting the surface. A natural, aquatic graveyard. Seth’s monochrome form, backlit by the pool lights, made him look almost undead. A zombie blankly gazing into the murky water.

He always looks so sad. Something about that bothers me. A small splash shook me from my thoughts, and I realized I should probably stop lurking. He glanced up as I walked over. His eyes looked even more downcast than usual. 

“That was a good game. You played well.” His compliment was genuine, no sign of sarcasm. 

“Ugh, you were there? That was probably one of the worst games I’ve ever played,” I complained, though I was internally flattered he’d shown up. I rubbed the back of my neck in embarrassment. 

“It wasn’t that bad. You did good,” he said, but I’d gotten distracted by something slowly sinking into the water. Something that definitely wasn’t a dead insect.

“What’s that?” I asked, gesturing towards the object. Seth looked surprised I’d noticed it. 

“Oh, uh, that? It’s a bracelet. A friendship bracelet. Rachel, uh, she gave it to me.” 

“What? Why’d you drop it?” I asked, sounding more stunned than I intended. 

“I mean, she’s gone. It doesn’t really serve a purpose anymore.” 

“What the hell, Seth? Of course, it does.” Anger bubbled up in my gut, slipping into my voice. I bent down and reached my hand into the water, then my arm. It had sunk further than I’d thought. My hair, usually slicked back for games, slumped forwards and into the muck. I grabbed it, lurched up too fast, and slipped on the ledge.

 Seth grabbed my other arm just in time to prevent me from falling in completely, and yanked me back towards him. I stumbled, causing us both to fall back onto the cement, me on top of him, our breath on each other's faces. His hood had fallen from his head, revealing his shocked expression and wide blue eyes. I put the bracelet on his chest and rolled to the side.

“You can’t just get rid of this! This is a part of her. No, a part of both of you. Yeah, she’s gone now, but that’s why you have to hold on to every piece that’s left. That’s all we get, whatever’s left over and once that’s gone… once every piece is gone, people start to forget. Once that happens, it’s like they were never here to begin with.”

“But,” he protested. I ignored him. 

“My dad died a couple years ago, in an accident at work. This is all I have left.” I lifted my wrist to show him the watch. My father’s watch. The one dripping with pool muck. The one that was probably now permanently water-logged, unusable. 

“Oh my God, Emil, I’m so sorry.” 

I sighed. I’d heard that too often. They didn’t even feel like words anymore, just sounds. 

“It’s fine. Just promise me you won’t get rid of it. If I have to keep this stupid, broken watch, you have to keep the soggy bracelet. Deal?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, deal. I promise. I’ll keep it,” he stuttered. 

“Good,” I said as I stood up. My anger had vanished, replaced by conviction. I reached my hand out to Seth, who still lay stone-still on the cement. 

“Come on, we’ve got a mystery to solve.” 

**

The Moon speaks the truth

Weaving memory to words

Spanning space between

**

I jimmied the lock in silence, glancing over at Emil every now and then to see his expression. He didn’t seem mad, but I still felt awful about his watch. Worse than I had about anything in a very long time. But in all honesty, it felt good to feel bad, or rather, to feel something, I guess. I’d been dwelling in my guilt over what happened to Rachel for so long it had grown stagnant, like everything else. This guilt was new and oddly refreshing. 

We meandered through the halls, neither of us in a hurry to get to the library. The janitorial crew was long gone by then, leaving the halls as quiet and unsettling as a crypt. After a few moments of listening to our quiet footfall shatter the silence of the school, Emil finally spoke up. 

“Seth, what really happened? With Rachel, I mean. I’ve only ever heard rumors and honestly, that’s not good enough. You deserve to tell the story, because, well, because she can’t herself.” 

I deliberated for a few seconds, tugging the still-wet bracelet refastened around my wrist. People never asked me about it anymore. They all knew what happened. Or at least assumed they did. No one seemed to care about the truth, only the most interesting variation. Similar to the way Rachel chose variations of herself to hide behind, those most liked by others. Emil, well he was asking for exactly what I hoped Rachel had shown to me, walking down those same hallways, up to no good, on nights not unlike that one. Authenticity. And so, for her sake I told him. I told him everything.