I unfolded the first with shaking hands.
Stop stealing my socks. I know they're mine because mine don't smell weird.
Mom knows you ate the last brownie.
Despite myself, I laughed.
Another said:
Mom knows you ate the last brownie, by the way. I'm not taking the blame again.
Another:
If you tell anyone I cried during that dog movie, I'll deny it forever.
My chest hurt.
The girls had been writing to each other.
These weren't the notes I'd imagined.
The girls had been writing to each other, yes, but out of love.
And judging by the dates, they'd been doing it for years.
I kept reading.
Some were stupid.
Some were sweet.
Fine, you can have half my money.
One mentioned a lemonade stand when they were nine.
Fine, you can have half my money. But only because you did build the stand.
I remembered that day.
Emma had sold almost every cup while Alice decorated the signs.
At bedtime, I had heard coins clinking between their rooms.
Then I found an envelope near the bottom.
Another note said:
You didn't ruin the talent show. You got scared. That's different. Next year we're doing something where nobody has to sing.
I remembered that too.
Alice had frozen onstage.
Before any teacher could intervene, Emma had walked out beside her and grabbed her hand.
Then I found an envelope near the bottom.
READ THIS IF YOU'RE STILL MAD AT ME.
Unlike the others, it was sealed.
Across the front, Emma had written:
READ THIS IF YOU'RE STILL MAD AT ME.
I heard the front door open.
"Mom?"
Alice.
Her eyes landed on the backpack.
I stood so quickly the papers scattered.
She appeared in the doorway.
Her eyes landed on the backpack.
Then the envelope.
Her face changed completely.
