NOW

To: “Ambrosia Wellington” a.wellington@wesleyan.edu

From: “Wesleyan Alumni Committee” reunion.classof2007@gmail.com

Subject: Class of 2007 Reunion

Dear Ambrosia Wellington,

The birch tree signifies truth, new beginnings, and the cleansing of the past. Share your memories of Flora’s beautiful spirit and her reverberating impact on those who knew her. Flora’s positivity was a rare quality in a world that presents so many challenges, and the Flora Banning Memorial Foundation, created in her honor, strives to keep doing her good work.

Sincerely,

Your Alumni Committee

“It’s not Flora,” Sully says. “Flora’s dead.” But she doesn’t sound so sure.

The girl takes her spot beside Ella. She doesn’t smile. I finally let myself breathe because of course she’s not Flora. But she looks almost identical. Her eyebrows are a bit different, darker and thicker, and her mouth is wider. She’s willowy, like Flora, the same thin limbs and dainty collarbones. Younger than us, but older than Flora was when she died. She’s the girl I see everywhere, Flora’s ghost chasing me around. Or maybe every girl has become Flora to me.

No, I have seen this girl before. I’ve met this girl before. In Butts C, clinging to Flora, face mobbed with tears. In pictures on our wall, little girls with swan necks and sun-whitened hair. In news footage, holding Flora’s mother’s hand.

“It’s her sister,” I say. “It’s Poppy.”

“I didn’t know she had a sister,” Sully says.

“She talked about her all the time,” I say. “You must have known.”

Sully shrugs. “I had no idea.” Her nonchalance makes me wince, not because it’s mean but because it proves my crime was always worse. Flora thought I was her best friend.

Poppy’s eyes scan the crowd, looking for somebody. Maybe she’s looking for us.

“What if it’s her?” I practically whisper.

I never considered that Poppy could be behind the notes. She wasn’t there. She had no cause to suspect anyone but Kevin. He was the only reason she and Flora ever argued. She even spoke out against him, in the media shitstorm that followed. Her statement to the press was tearful, a stark contrast to her father’s angry missive. She couldn’t even finish without sobs overtaking her speech. You took my sister away, and I’ll never forgive you.

“It’s not her,” Sully says. “I mean, she barely looks old enough to drink.”

She’s twenty-seven. Four years younger than us. Sully doesn’t know, but I do.

“Thank you so much to everyone for coming,” Poppy says. Her voice is almost identical to Flora’s. High and airy, probably susceptible to bursts of giggles. Flora told me Poppy wanted to go to Wesleyan too. I told her she could come visit, stay with us for a couple nights. She would love it here.

Flora told her sister about me, the girl who slept a few feet away. But she got it wrong.

“My sister would have loved to be here for the reunion. And she is here, in spirit. It took me a long time to come to terms with what happened to her, and I always knew I wanted to do something to honor her memory. After I did my undergrad here at Wesleyan, I started this foundation to raise money for mental health awareness, so girls like Flora don’t suffer alone. It’s my mission in life to make sure women feel more supported. We’re in this together.”

Poppy during the investigation, so certain. Flora would have left a note.

“Flora was more than just a sister to me. She was my best friend. She would have done anything for me. Now it’s my turn to do something for her.”

“See?” I hiss to Sully. “It’s her turn. This is a threat.”

“There’s no way she could know it was us,” Sully murmurs, like she’s trying to convince herself.

“Flora loved nature,” Poppy continues, her voice fraying. “Her dream was to have a house with a garden and a lot of trees. She had so much love to give, not just to everyone but everything. She took care of the earth. She took care of people. I wish I could have taken care of her. But this is the next best thing I could do. She would have wanted this.”

Wanted what? I think. Adrian shoots me a bewildered look and I wonder if I said it out loud.

“I encourage you, her former friends and classmates, to share your memories of Flora. To keep her legacy alive. If you’re able, please consider donating to the memorial foundation in her honor. But above all, listen to each other.” She blots underneath her eye with her fingertip. “Thank you to everyone for coming. Looking around, I can see exactly how loved my sister was.”

People clap lightly. Ella embraces Poppy, then turns to the crowd, wires her mouth into a smile, and clears her throat. “Flora was genuinely kind to me when I got here. She made me feel like I could just be myself. I can’t even begin to stress how much that meant to me.”

I stare at the grass under our shoes. I could have been kind to Ella, but somehow it was easier not to be.

Ella continues. “Sometimes people can look like they’re totally okay, but they’re not. This is why it’s important to check in with your friends.

“I want to open this up to all of you.” Ella focuses her gaze directly on me. “That’s why we’re here. To share and grieve together. I’m sure a lot of you have something to say about Flora Banning.”

Gemma wanders into the center of the circle and starts telling a story about how Flora was there for her during her dad’s cancer diagnosis. Sniffles travel through the crowd, but Sully huffs out a frustrated breath.

“Please. Her dad never had cancer. She’s just too embarrassed to say that Flora went with her to get tested when she thought she had gonorrhea. Gem told me Flora was a total prude.”

It would have been easy to nod in agreement if I didn’t know Gemma’s dad died during our junior year. I shift uncomfortably, wishing I could be buoyed by Sully’s version of the truth.

Lily shares a memory of Flora’s bringing her candy from Weshop when she was particularly stressed about a paper. Clara tells us Flora helped her end things with her toxic high school boyfriend.

“Saint fucking Flora,” Sully snaps. “This is ridiculous.”

But I’m wondering if maybe the girls really did love Flora. They were drawn to the very warmth they lacked. They let her be their personal sun, under which they could bloom without competition, the opposite of my mom’s sunflowers. That was why they formed a phalanx around her memory after her death.

Sully and I hated that a girl like that existed. We were too cynical to believe in her goodness. But maybe Flora actually was that nice. Maybe I aligned myself with the wrong person, and a girl died because of it. Nausea rises, sudden and acute.

“I have to go.” I turn away, ignoring Adrian’s concerned “Where are you going?” and Sully’s outstretched hand. I shove my way out of the circle and break into a run on High Street. I need to get away from campus, no matter how bad it looks. No matter what they all think. I run away from the noise, from the starbursts of alumni and graduates everywhere. Nobody can stand in my way.

Except for the last person I want to see right now. The last person I ever want to see. Felty, looming with his hands on his hips, like he has been waiting for me. I do think he has been waiting. For a very long time.

“You went,” he says. “Did you get to share a favorite memory? I’m sure you have lots to choose from.”

“What happened was a tragedy.” I keep my chin raised. “I’ll be making a donation to the memorial foundation.”

He doesn’t break eye contact. “You think I was hard on you. And I was.”

I never thought Felty would apologize. I didn’t think he was capable of I’m sorry. But this sounds like a lead-up, an introduction. His eyes bore into my face.

“I wasn’t hard enough.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He shakes his head, more like a twitch. “All that, and you never even got what you wanted from it, did you? You never got the guy. Or the career. I guess I should be happy about that, but it isn’t enough.”

“You aren’t allowed to talk to me like that.” My voice breaks. “I’ll report you for harassment.”

He laughs now, not loud and booming, but quietly, which is more disconcerting. “To who? And tell them what? If you want to rehash the past, please do. I’m more than ready to play that game. Your file has never left my head.”

Your file has never left my head. Maybe I was right when I thought it was Felty. I picture him now, hunched over that card stock. Our case was personal to him. He couldn’t save his sister but he could make it right through Flora Banning.

“You wanted to get us here this weekend. You want something to happen.”

He loops his thumbs into his belt. “There’s a lot I want to happen. But I didn’t have to do anything to get you here this weekend. I knew you’d be here. You wouldn’t be able to resist coming back to see what you’ve done.”

My jaw trembles and I remember that night, how I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering. I turn to leave.

“Ambrosia,” he calls after me. “You’re wrong. There is no us. Just you.”

Now I’m running, my wedge sandals making thunk noises on the sidewalk. Sully and I went over our story so many times, diligently, the same way we once memorized monologues for class. We have to stick to the same story. Those were her words. We sat across from each other and repeated the same lines, staring into each other’s eyes.

I didn’t turn on her.

But maybe she turned on me.

There is no us. She said that, and Felty somehow knows.

I slow to a walk through Andrus and up Foss Hill, but I don’t stop at the Nics to see what might be waiting there for me. I head straight for V Lot and get into our rental car, then use my phone to pull up directions to the Super 8. To the only person who can give me the truth about that night.

Even though I can never do the same for him.