Monday, 23/10/1994

 The room was dark when she drifted out of sleep. With a slight start, she felt something touching her hand, and a presence next to her. She could barely make out a faint silhouette, as some trace amount of light got into the room from the dimly lit hallway, from under the door. Otherwise, it would’ve been pitch black. Her right arm was wrapped around an elephant plushie toy, but on her left... she realised it was someone’s hand.

 She tried to speak but choked up. She also realised her face felt wet. What...? She pulled away her hand, and the other person’s hand didn’t resist. She sat up in the bed and reached for the night light that was mounted on the wall next to the bed. As she switched it on, she couldn’t help but flinch as a small form was revealed kneeling beside her bed. It was the red-haired girl. She’d not yet seen her once outside of mealtimes.

 “W-why are you here?” she finally managed to ask. The girl withdrew the hand she’d been holding onto Amelia’s with.

 “Crying.” It was the first time she’d heard the girl speak, but she had trouble making out what she said.

 “What?”

 “You. Crying. I heard.” Her voice was barely audible as she looked at her hands, now gripping the edge of the mattress.

 “I...” Had she really been crying? She figured that would explain why her face felt so wet and messy. Was that why she’d felt so in the past two mornings as well? But why was she crying, and why hadn’t she realised it? “I cried?”

 “Yes.” Rosalie pointed at the wall with a tiny finger. “I sleep there.” Even if she had been crying, how had this girl heard it through the wall – surely it hadn’t been that loud?

 “But why are you... in my room?” Her head felt quite fuzzy from the interrupted sleep, which made the situation feel even stranger. The girl next to her looked at her, though not in the eyes – for a while before speaking again. Rather than an answer, it was another question.

 “Why do you cry? You cry yesterday too. And before.”

 She couldn’t say. She didn’t know. Not only that, but she hadn’t even known she had been doing that. But now, as she looked at this tiny girl who was nervously holding on to her mattress but was still looking at her earnestly with her green eyes glinting in the soft light, she could feel her eyes welling up. It didn’t take long for gut-wrenching sobs to fill the silence in the room as she nearly doubled over. The girl next to her wasn’t really sure where to look or what to do, but even so, she instinctively extended her hand and placed it on Amelia’s again, squeezing ever so slightly. As the tears flowed, Amelia just as instinctively squeezed hers back, while also doing the same with her other arm to her plushie toy.

 The morning wake-up call startled Amelia awake. She felt a weight on her right shoulder. She realised that she was sitting on her bed, leaning against the wall, with her knees pulled up against her. And leaning against her in a similar posture was the little girl, still asleep, barely covered by the blanket pulled up against them. She had no real recollection of how they had ended up like this. She certainly wouldn’t have expected something like this from her, given she seemed to prefer avoiding everyone. Regardless, she found herself feeling grateful. She’d not even realised how much she needed someone, even just to hold her hand again, as the girl had during the night; her parents would never be doing so again. At that thought, she had to try and hold back tears again.

 “Hey,” she spoke out after calming down, squeezing the girl’s hand. She wouldn’t have minded staying like this, but they’d get reprimanded – again – if they were late. “It’s time for breakfast.” Slowly, the girl opened her eyes and sleepily rubbed them with her hand. Then she tensed as if only just realising she was not alone. She glanced at Amelia uncertainly. The latter realised that the former had not been in the room when she’d been introduced to everyone else, nor had they talked since, until now. “My name is Amelia.” The girl seemed to glance at her again without turning her head, but said nothing. “What’s yours?”

 “Rosalie Lilian,” the girl eventually replied in a hushed voice. It seemed she tried to say something more. “Mc... Mc...” But then she stopped, or perhaps gave up. Amelia suspected it was something too difficult for her to pronounce. Rosalie Lilian. Not many kids would introduce themselves by more than their first name. The girl really was a little strange, as Noah had said.

 Amelia’s gaze wandered to her storybook, partially hidden under her pillow. The girl’s name pair immediately reminded her of one of her favourite stories in the book, ‘The Rose and the Lily.’ It was a fairytale-like story about two sisters. The elder sister, Rose, was a beautiful, energetic young girl, well-liked by everyone. Lily was a shy girl whom most people paid little attention to. She always seemed to be in her sister’s shadow, both figuratively and literally. But even when Amelia’s parents had first read the story to her and as she had been watching the pictures that went along with it, she’d been immediately drawn in more by the younger sister. The ending aside, the people in the story always seemed to appreciate roses better than lilies, both in the treatment of the characters and with their namesakes. Even the title put Rose first, after all. But for Amelia...

 “I see.” She looked at the girl and smiled. “Do you think I could call you Lily? I like lilies better.” She winked slightly awkwardly, and after saying it out loud, she realised the girl might find that insulting. But then the small voice replied:

 “Yes.”