The Day Lin Died

Written by Neenee Hu

Moving is always said to be fun. Moving is sometimes said to be new. Maybe exciting.

Not for me.

Moving makes me sick. Why?

Because whenever my brother, Samuel, and I move, I can still smell the sweat, the tears, the anguish, the stress, in the backseat of our SUV.

Whenever we have to move, I can remember the day Lin died.

I don't remember much now. But I do remember this.

Lin and I were best friends in ninth grade. We would sit in the back of my SUV and smoke cigarettes and eat bubble gum.

We could stay in my car and share energy drinks while we listened to Radiohead after school. That was the best school year of my life.

Throughout my girlhood, we were inseparable. Lighting the best joints from the corner store. Sharing secrets while spraying the car with CVS perfume to dilute the smell of smoke and sweat. Seeing how many tries it took to catch the attention of our crushes nearby in the parking lot.

It was great. Really, it was.

But I’d be a liar if I didn’t get jealous of Lin at times. I mean, with those hips and legs and long fiery hair, who couldn’t be? She paled me in comparison. Literally. She was tanner than a Hollister male model.

And she never needed to move. Her brother didn’t work 3 jobs at the same time to support her and her big sister. She had a perfect life, with a perfect amount of problems to make her world interesting.

And me? I had to work as a waitress at the diner downtown while my brother juggled three jobs and my sister lived in college. We had an apartment and a cat named Nibbles, and even though I loved my life, you couldn’t pay me to relive it.

It was cemented for me when she invited me over for dinner during Halloween. I was dressed as a black cat, and she was Marie Antoinette. Her brother was dressed in a pirate getup, and, my, he was hot. Like, hot hot. Celebrity, westside rom com male hot.

I remember that her mom made us pumpkin pie and blueberry cobbler and turkey sandwiches, but we ended up eating mac and cheese because Lin thought it’d be cooler and more “rad.”

We were on the couch, spooning macaroni and mozzarella that was way too salty from our bowls, when Lin came up with a new idea.

"Let's play a game, I'm bored! We're too old for trick or treating now, so like, you guys wanna go break my mom's empty wine bottles in the yard?" she asked, slamming down her plastic bowl onto the coffee table.

Her brother, Thomas, smiled. "Hell yeah, little sis. What about you, Arty? Too scared?"

I shook my head immediately when his eyes locked on me. I couldn't let Thomas think I was a puny baby.

"No way!" I lied, shoving another salty forkful of cheese into my mouth. "I'm not scared of a few little glass shards."

He grinned and slammed his bowl down beside Lin's.

"Let's get going, then."

And with that, he pulled me up by my sparkly sweater and dragged me outside, Lin following behind us, both laughing.

Lin found the bottles. Thomas found the place. I volunteered first.

I clutched one Pinot Noir bottle in shaky hands, the gleam of the glass matching the shine of the sequins on my sweater sleeves.

I raised it above my head and brought it down onto the pavement with a loud smash, shrieking as I batted my hands over my head to avoid any shards to the head. I heard Thomas snicker as he caught me, both of us stumbling back.

Lin watched and picked up the half-shattered bottle from the pavement. She examined it in her hands before smirking.

"My turn. Watch and learn, Artemis."

She raised it above her head before she dropped it to the pavement. The glass shattered, shards rising into the air with a loud crash.

I stumbled back, alongside Thomas, and I wondered why nobody was laughing this time.

That was when I saw Lin.

She stood, body limp, her head pointed to the ground. The pavement was stained dark in the spooky lights she had wrapped on the porch. Thomas slowly approached her, his hands reached out gingerly to tip up her chin.

I let out a horrified scream, skittering back on my Converse as I took in the sight.

Lin's face, mutilated and dark red, stared up at me. One eye was pierced with a shard of Pinot Noir, her nose cut in the middle, like a stitch a doctor would give. Blood gushed from her throat, bubbling at her chin.

Thomas dropped her face, his hands glowing warmly with his sister's blood. He walked over to me, then past me, and dipped his hands in their pool. The water turned red.

I stared at him, and, not trusting myself to speak, walked back a step.

Crunch.

I jumped up, eyes wide behind my glasses, and looked back.

Lin's body lay on the floor now, limp and useless. And her nose? Her nose had an imprint, bleeding out. And that imprint was of my shoe.

I screamed, running closer to the porch door. The sight was so gruesome, so nightmarish, that I couldn't believe this had happened to her.

Lin was dead.

"No. Say it again. That's not how it went."

I blinked up at my doctor. "Yes, it was. The glass did it. It must've pierced some vital organs."

He shook his head. "No. The glass did not kill... her. You need to remember."

I tilted my head to the side. "What killed her, then? The spookiness of the party?"

"You need to remember," he insisted.

"I am remembering. What's so wrong with that?"

He sighed and walked over to me, laying a hand on my shoulder.

"There's something very wrong. Your name isn't Arty. You're Lin Summers. And you're not dead."