On the Fringe by Courtney King Walker

whiffle ball and tags me smack in the eye… I throw up in the bushes on the way home from school and Matthew and Addie run away from me, but Claire stays behind and holds my backpack for me… we’re running through the sprinklers… going to the movies… mountain biking… carpool… football games… pizza night…
    Stop.
    Unwind.
    Breathe.
    I couldn’t believe how many Claire memories I had forgotten over the years. I never realized how much she was such a part of my life. Sure, at the time, most of the details seemed as routine as brushing my teeth or tying my shoes. Who remembers stuff like that? But now I knew what made Claire so much more interesting than most of the girls I’d liked or dated—which was probably why I still couldn’t get her out of my mind. It had something to do with all those crazy, funny things that made her unique, like the sound of her low-pitched laugh, or the way her neck got splotchy-red when she was embarrassed, how she stuck with glasses most of the time despite advances in modern technology. Or the way she screamed whenever someone snuck up behind her (it could even be a babbling baby and she’d still freak out), and all the other strange, funny, dorky, unique things that made her Claire….
    It felt like she had snuck in the back door and crawled right up inside my head without me ever knowing. There were probably a hundred more memories, but I was already feeling the weight of the Memory Trace. It was exhausting searching through my mind like that, like reliving hundreds of hours of thoughts and feelings all at once in a short amount of time. It even made me feel kind of sleepy.
    And it was time to wake up and go back home.
    To Hidden Lake.
    To Claire.

Claire
    The drive home was mostly silent. Obviously, there would be no explaining to Drew why I had wandered off alone in the dark. What would I tell him, anyway? That I was playing hide-and-seek with my dead crush? Rather than make up some far-fetched story, I kept my mouth shut as he drove, the stereo blasting through the strain. I just hoped he wasn’t the gossipy type.
    When Drew dropped me off, I mumbled a sort-of apology, unable to look him in the eyes. I didn’t know exactly how to say sorry, so I gushingly thanked him instead, and then he left me alone beneath a cascade of moonlight.
    The porch light flickered on much too quickly as the door creaked open to Mom’s cheerful face. She probably had insanely high hopes that Drew would solve all of my problems. I was sorry to disappoint her, but still offered a weak smile, pretending. She really had no idea how far from despondency I truly was. If she only knew . Then again, I was pretty sure she would send me off to the shrink she’d been threatening for the last three months if I told her how my evening really went.
    “How was it, hon?”
    “Fine.” I found it nearly impossible trying to play casual while bursting inside.
    “Did you have fun?”
    I sunk to the empty bench and sighed in frustration, wishing I could tell her the truth, but knew that was out of the question. How could I tell anyone I wanted to be with someone who was dead but occasionally came back to life? Chills trickled down my arms and legs when I replayed in my mind the moment Daniel swung me around and said my name. I loved the sound of his voice.
    “Not much to talk about?” Mom asked, putting her arm around me.
    “Not really. It was fine,” I said, though I was beginning to sense some sort of premeditated lecture.
    “Did you like him?” she asked too eagerly. “Was he nice?”
    “Sure, Mom. He was nice. Not my type, though.”
    “Claire, you’ve got to try–”
    There. She’d said it—the one thing I was sick of hearing everyone tell me—that I needed to “try harder,” that my loneliness was all my fault, and if I would just give more guys a chance, I might actually end up liking one. I was so done with that guilt trip.
    “Mom,” I stopped her, sitting up straight.
    She quit