An Imaginary Girl Called Amelia and an Imaginary Ghost Called Millie

My sister, though she isn't really my sister, is beautiful.

Her name is June, short for Juniper, and she is twelve years old. She has auburn curls that bounce around her face, which her mother ties with little blue bows. When she smiles, she has a little gap between her two front teeth, but she says the dentists are fixing that soon.

She still talks to me sometimes. She tells me about her braces, and the girl named Becca at school who tugs on her curls. Becca, who calls her mean names and then holds her hand.

She tells me about her nightmares, at midnight, with the moon watching. She says that the monsters climb from under her bed and slither from her closet to wrap their talons, wings, and jaws around her. She feels their fur and feathers.

When the monsters have left with the moonlight it seems I am gone too. Sucked into some ray of sunshine I watch her dress in the little blue uniform with the number twelve on the back. I watch her roll her socks up over shin guards and tie her mass of curls behind her head. I watch her run from the room in sharp little shoes, a bright blue bag slung over her shoulder.

She leaves me alone in her room. The curtains are wide open, and I am trapped between them. This bedroom was a dollhouse once, gilded pink, with heaps of stuffed animals and barbies scattered across the floor. I used to have a chair, painted white and rocking set in a corner. Nobody was allowed to sit there. Just me.

When she was four, she drew a picture of me. She called me Amelia, I had purple hair and freckles shaped like stars, she dressed me in pilots' goggles and brown leather. Her parents helped to tape the picture to the wall above her bed.

Amelia became Millie as I grew up with her. The collage spread. My hair turned pink, then blue, then red. My goggles became a wizard's hat and then a flower crown. She started drawing herself into the pictures. On her wall we went to mars and danced with aliens, we rode unicorns and dined with elves.

When the first drawing fell down, she didn't hang it back up. Instead, she placed it in a box under her bed. The rest of her pictures followed that first one into the box. She moved my stuff out with the generation of clothes plastered with sparkles and unicorns. My little rocking chair gathers cobwebs in her attic.

Pictures of me were replaced by posters of soccer players: Megan Rapinoe and Mia Hamm. She talked to me less and less, the only exception on those rare nights where the monsters came for her. Otherwise, she goes to soccer practice.

June returns from practice damp with grass stains running up her white socks. She brings a girl with her, Becca, from school.

She comes into her room first, leaving Becca in the hallway. She takes Jimmy, her stuffed giraffe, and jams him under her pillow. She tosses a blanket over the dolls in the corner. She throws the rest of her stuffed animals into the closet and closes the door.

She moves to shut the curtains, but swerves towards her bed and leaves them open.

Becca sits beside her on her bed. They are not playing, just sitting and talking. Their heads are bent very close together, their foreheads almost touching, their hair falling across their eyes. She claps a hand over her mouth in delight; Becca kicks her legs in laughter.

Becca turns her head to see the wall behind her, she says, “I love your posters.” Junes face splits into a smile so wide it scrapes her earlobes.

She responds in a rush, “Meghan Rapinoe is my favorite. She’s just SO cool. I really want her haircut.” She flushes bright pink. Becca reaches up and tugs one of Junes curls. It bounces right back up, brushing her ear.

Becca whispers, “I bet you would look really cool with that haircut.” June flushes deeper scarlet and plucks at the duvet with a chipped fingernail. She murmurs, “Maybe one day.”

“Yes, one day!” Becca squeals. June scoffs, but a smile tugs at her lips. Her eyes are climbing up the wall and towards Becca’s face. “You'll be so cool that I'll have a poster of you on my wall!”

June bursts into a delighted giggle, “You won't need a poster, silly.”

“And why not?” Becca raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Because you will still be my best friend, you won't need a poster.” June's hands have stilled their picking at the duvet. Her entire body seems frozen besides her breath, which speeds past her lips. I notice the faint tremor of her fingers, the way her eyes are trained on Becca, but circle her face instead of holding her gaze. The silence stretches for aching seconds.

With a breath like a blade Becca grins, “Well then I'll buy one anyway!”

June rolls her eyes, “Don't be ridiculous!” But her shoulders loosen, and her breath evens. There is a look of feigned offense on Becca’s face; her mouth is open wide, and syllables are prepared to leap from her tongue. On a sharp inhale she begins, “Excuse you –”

“June! Dinner!” June's mother's voice echoes up the stairs.

“Coming!” June calls back. She turns to Becca, “Stay for dinner?”

“I should probably get home.” Becca rolls her eyes and lets out a dramatic sigh.

"If you have too.” June replies dully, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Unfortunately, I must,” Becca hangs her head, whipping an imagined tear from her eye she continues earnestly, “But I shall see you at school tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” June manages to wheeze out before exploding in laughter; Becca follows suit. June throws her arms around Becca’s neck, pressing her face to her shoulder. Becca wraps her arms around June’s waist.

"I'll see you tomorrow,” June murmurs.

“Yes, tomorrow.” Becca hums back. The girls remain tangled for a moment longer. June's breath is shaking, and Becca tugs her curls.

Becca stands and moves towards the door; she pauses for a moment and smiles at June. “Bye!” She mouths, and the door clicks shut behind her.

June remains on her bed until she hears the front door slam. When she does, she is up in an instant. Her legs carry her to the window, and she pauses by my side.

Out on the street, Becca pulls her bike from where it lies on the grass of Junes front lawn and mounts it. With her feet pressed primly to the petals she turns her head and offers a final wave at Junes window. June lifts her hand to wave back.

June watches Becca all the way down the street, a small smile glittering on her lips. Without turning she says, “Millie, I don't think I need an imaginary friend anymore.”

June turns from the window and closes the curtains.