"Is there anything else I can help with?" I asked.
Quinn blinked up at me with her chocolate brown eyes. She glanced around to make sure I was speaking to her. "Not really. Not now."
"Have you gone in to view the body?" I asked. It was a shit question, but I could not take it back.
Quinn shook her head, so I held out my arm. Her cheeks blushed as she looked nervously from side to side. Sienna's little sister was clearly not used to being noticed. "Don't worry. They're staring at me. If I'm not falling apart just right or keeping it together well enough, they'll dock my score," I said.
She pulled her lips in to stop a smile. "Or they're thinking how nasty I am putting the moves on my sister's boyfriend." Her cheeks burned brighter.
"They don't know how long we've known each other. They don't know I've seen Pretty Pony sheets on your bed," I said.
"They don't know that you made me pick out Sienna's Valentine’s gifts every year since you two started dating."
"I gave you boxes of chocolates every year," I reminded her.
"M&Ms wrapped in Post-It Notes."
"With pass codes and Easter Eggs."
"My favorite," she admitted.
We stopped in the viewing line. I knew I should let go of her, but I kept her arm tucked tightly against me. She leaned on my arm in the crush of people and did not try to pull it free.
"Speaking of Easter Eggs," I said, "remember that time Sienna got mad at me for dying eggs wrong?"
"You mixed the colors until it was dark brown and told her you were making rabbit turds," Quinn said. She chewed her lip to hide another smile.
"She kicked us both out of the kitchen for laughing. We ended up eating jelly beans and playing Vice City until one in the morning."
Quinn gave a ragged sigh. "Sienna dyed the most perfect Easter Eggs. She blew the yokes out and everything. I always tried to save the prettiest until the next year. Until she pointed out I could just take pictures. I think I still have some stashed away."
"What? Pictures of eggs?"
Quinn shook her head and said nothing. Only Quinn would carefully preserve something as delicate as a hollow egg. To her, they were treasures to be saved. I loved how she treasured things. Sienna always treated everything like a prototype to be tossed away in the hopes the next one would be better.
"Owen, we're so glad you came. Have you signed the guestbook yet?" Mr. Thomas asked. He took my elbow and guided me out of line.
Quinn slipped her arm out and opened her mouth to stop her father.
He shook his head at her. "It would mean so much to us if you'd put down a few words about Sienna. You knew her so well."
Once we were
out of Quinn's hearing, he hissed in my ear. "Nice of you to come, but you're upsetting my wife. Sign the guestbook and go."
Mr. Thomas dropped my arm and went to greet better guests. I rubbed my elbow and realized he had shoved me towards the door. There was no guestbook that I could see.
Instead, there were large collages of Sienna. Her photogenic life had been carefully curated and mounted to best highlight her successes. Other guests gushed over the beauty and the achievements, but I could not see it.
A proud picture of her with a glistening show horse and a trophy looked perfect. I cringed as I remembered Sienna telling me how she hated her first horse. She lied and told the trainer it had bitten her so she could ride a better one. The trainer had taken her at her word and sold the horse to a trail ride farm up north.
Her prize science fair display looked like the perfection of a curious and intelligent mind. To me, it signified being stood up two times in one week. Then, Sienna had accused me of trying to sabotage her work by guilting her.
Then, there was the bake sale photograph and accompanying newspaper article. I knew Quinn had baked those cookies. Hours after the fundraiser was over, Sienna refused to get out of her bed. She was so depressed at being outdone by someone else that she did not speak to Quinn for days.
Not only had Quinn let her older sister take the credit, she had spent days trying to lift Sienna out of her selfish funk. I had one foot out of the door but stopped. The least I could do was stay and make sure Quinn was alright.
She was standing off to the side in her own living room. Her mother and father had given her seat away to a prominent neighbor. I was partially disgusted by her parents' heartlessness. The other part was delighted that she was within reach.