How to Keep a Secret

My sister, the rebel.

She was right. I could have gone home. But then who would have taken care of her? What if she knocked herself unconscious or was swept out to sea? The current was pretty strong and you had to swim hard away from the bridge once you jumped. I’d positioned myself down on the beach because I figured that was the only way I’d be able to rescue her.

The seaweed was slippery under my shoes and the wind was cold.

I was shivering, although I wasn’t sure whether it was through cold or fear. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

Like all families, we had rules.

My sister had broken all of them.

Was I my sister’s keeper? Well yes, I was. Self-appointed, admittedly. What choice did I have? I loved her. We told each other everything. She was my best friend. I would have died for her, although I would have preferred that to be a last resort.

I tried one more time. “The sign says No Jumping Off the Bridge.”

She looked across at me and shrugged. “Don’t look at it.”

“Mom will kill us.”

“She won’t know. She doesn’t know about any of the things we do. She only cares about painting.”

“If someone tells her, she’ll care.”

“Then we’d better hope no one tells her.”

That was her answer to everything.

I squirmed at mealtimes, terrified Mom might ask what we’d done all day. Guilt stuck to my skin until I was sure she would be able to see it. I felt as if I was glowing like a neon sign.

Fortunately for me, our mother usually had other things on her mind.

“It isn’t safe. Come back in the summer when there are more people.”

“I hate the crowds.” She clambered onto the top of the railing, balancing like a circus performer, arms stretched to the sky. “I’ll go on three. One, two—”

Throwing a wicked smile in my direction she pushed off and flew.

She sailed through the air and hit the water with a splash, disappearing under the surface. I felt a moment of raw terror. If she was in trouble, would I be strong enough to save her? The image in my head was so real I almost felt her body slipping from my hands. It was only when her head bobbed up and I let out a relieved sigh that I realized I’d been holding my breath. My toes hurt and I realized I’d curled them tight inside my shoes, ready to push off the rocks into the water.

She swam toward me, working hard against the current that was trying to pull her out to sea.

“You almost gave me a heart attack.” I threw her the towel, relief making my legs shaky. Another one of my sister’s wild adventures and we were still alive. There were days when I felt like her mother, not her sister. “We need to get home before someone sees you with wet hair.”

“No one will see us.” She emerged from the water, her clothes dripping and clinging to her skinny arms and legs. “Dad is away and Mom is in the studio.”

“What do we say when she asks what we did today?”

“She won’t ask.” My sister rubbed her head with the towel and tossed her hair back. She looked exhilarated and excited the way she always did when we did something we weren’t supposed to. “But if she does, we’ll tell her we went for a scenic bike ride.”

This was part of our pact. We always made sure there were no flaws in our story.

Whatever happened, she knew I’d protect her.

She was my sister.

3

Jenna