Same

She struggled with the broken pedal, but she didn't stop for breaks. Emberline cycled at the optimum speed, not too fast nor too slow. She remained just fast enough to catch up with Jenny's car and just slow enough to not be noticed as she trailed behind them.

Her foot hurt; she had run out without her shoes and onto the cycle, and her feet felt swollen from the spiky pedals. Though it didn't bother her much, her eyes were set on the task before her.

Each time the car took a turn, she had to make sure to pause so Jeanette could not see her following. Her heartbeat slowed each time she saw her, almost as though she had been caught.

Once more, she took a sharp turn. The man who steered the car wore sunglasses, his hairline plunged deep into his ears. He had a menacing smirk on his face that made Emberline hate him even more. He was old, older than Jenny, and yet there he was, the only friendly figure in her life that she confided in much more than her family.

Emberline put great force on the brakes before coming to a screeching halt. If it hadn't become obvious to Jenny before, it certainly would have by now.

Emberline waited, hoped, and prayed the two figures in the car hadn't noticed her, her head down and her hair covered by a scarf. To be even more discreet, she wore Jeanette's sunglasses. To Emberline, it was the smartest disguise.

As the car disappeared into the street, she again began pedaling, steering herself on the sidewalk. She followed them into the street, and then once more, she came to a stop.

An open field.

A graveyard.

It would be too obvious to follow them down the empty street. She could at least disappear against the background of the buildings and the bustling streets.

Emberline stood still, her cycle bobbed to the side as she held tightly onto the brakes, ready to slip away any moment now. But the car was slow, the street long, and the silence drawn out. Emberline huffed in annoyance; patience wasn't a quality she boasted.

She looked around, and for a moment, she noticed her shadow, stretched across the graveyard fence and over four graves. However, the gathering just a few more graves over intrigued her even more. With bated breath, she observed the people; even their funeral clothes made of fine silk and leather.

Emberline scoffed.

She frowned in a concentrated bow, no noise. No one cried; everyone looked monotonous and pale. Even the small girl that accompanied them seemed to sport an arrogant pout. Once in a while, a woman would raise her arm to wipe away a tear that seemed to escape her dark eyes, though she remained expressionless. Another girl silently whimpered in the very back of the crowd. After the soft rustle of leaves and a silent prayer that each cast on the dead, a man shoveled dirt into the pit. It seemed like a ghastly procession, a ritual with no chant.

Emberline felt the hair on her neck prickle. To die such a death where no one sheds a drop in your memory. She watched on before she was brought back to reality; the car was gone.

With a deft flick of her foot, she propelled the cycle forward, vanishing into the depths of the street, where the once-gathering crowd now dispersed like whispers in the wind. She quickened her pace, matching that of a chicken with the end of her skirt whooshing past the green field.

Down another winding avenue, she went, her presence shrouded in quiet contemplation. Peering discreetly into the shadows, her gaze fell upon Jeanette. With practiced ease, Jeanette lifted a bag with one hand, the weight of its contents palpable even from afar. In her other hand, she grasped two bottles, their shape eerily similar to the whiskey bottles that lined their father's shelves at home.

Emberline's heart lurched with a mixture of horror and resignation, the truth of her sister's actions confirming her worst suspicions, though she was still unsurprised. As Jeanette ascended the stairs, tailing the man, Emberline pivoted the cycle's wheel. It was time to confront their father. With resolve etched upon her features, she pedaled away, not knowing the consequences of her small act of defiance.

---

She stomped onto the porch of her house, marking her presence as loudly as she could. Emberline wanted her father's immediate attention. She demanded a greater audience as she slipped into the house, shutting the door with a loud thud.

Her father was sitting in the living room, a newspaper in his hands, his fists balled around the paper—a habit of old men when they read unfavorable news. Emberline should have restrained herself, but she could no longer bring herself to stay silent on the matter.

"Papa!" she called. The old ladies from the neighborhood often scolded her for calling her papa so brazenly. It was unorthodox to address one's father in such a manner, but James never made his daughter feel it was wrong.

"Papa!" she called again.

"I'm in the living room!" he answered. The newspaper in his hands slumped, his eyes now set on his daughter, who walked into the room with little care for the delicate flooring. The house was an old construction, which James joked was favorable, as it kept the thieves out.

"I have something to tell you," Emberline choked over her heavy breath.

"You always do," he said in a low whisper, folding the newspaper and placing it on the table beside him.

Emberline pursed her lips into a thin line. "You will not get mad," she croaked.

"Well then, don't tell me," James said, picking up his newspaper again and reopening the page he had been immersed in. "They are working on getting a woman in parliament—I thought you'd want to know," he spoke. Emberline grew madder by the moment. Her hands pressed against each other, searching the creases of her palms for the right words. For a moment, she debated whether or not to inform her father.

"Papa, do you know where Jenny is?" she asked, immediately realizing she had said something wrong. James was instantly drawn away from the paper, his eyes glued to the girl who stood lankly before him.

"She said she was going to Ms. Paula's party, something for her farewell—"

"I saw her with that boy again," Emberline cried. She was hoping to see her father as distraught as she was, but James was caught between confusion and disappointment, though distraught nonetheless. Perhaps it was a vision, or perhaps Emberline saw, for just a moment, that her father had teared up.

"When?" he demanded, a thunderous roar that was short-lived.

"Just a few moments ago," Emberline replied hurriedly. There was no response. Her father simply stood from the chair, his face still holding the same monotony as when he read the newspaper. Emberline felt her heart race against her breath, a cold feeling enveloping her.

Her father took the chair outside, lit his cigarette, and impatiently tapped against the wooden armrest. His eyes, once eased and lazy, were now wide and saturated with red. Emberline felt as though her own crimes had come to light as she watched her father smoke one cigarette after another until the sun dimmed.

Emberline knew who he awaited, but the sight of him, the smell of ash, and the sound of his finger against the armrest made her head throb, and she had to escape upstairs to her room. Emberline suddenly found herself remorseful and disturbed.

There was only a soft spread of orange in the sky when Jeannette returned. Only the clip-clop of her heavy shoes marked her presence. Emberline felt true fear on her behalf. She watched from the window as her sister made her way onto the porch. "Hello!" she cheered to her father, but the words slipped out of her mouth as though her tongue had been tied by a velvety cloth.

"Where have you been?" he questioned.

"I told you I was at Paula's," she replied, but it was obvious to anyone that she had drunk many glassfuls.

It wasn't unusual; Jeannette had taken to drinking many times. But what was a matter of concern was her presence around Oliver, who had made a name for himself among the ill-mannered and crooked. Jeannette never surrounded herself with bright people like Emberline did.

"Are you lying?" he asked her calmly.

"Why would I be lying? I told you I would be with Paula; why would I lie about that?" Jeannette suddenly blurted, her fear rising in her chest along with her voice. It was unaffirming.

"Yes or no?" he asked again.

"No!" she cried. She was clearly offended by the accusation.

"I saw you with the boy, Jeannette," James said carefully, so as not to bring Emberline's name into it. Jeannette paled. Her eyes, which already failed to hide her crime, widened in horror.

"You didn't!" she said to him. Emberline felt as though someone had stoned the inside of her chest. She stood in court as a witness against a loved one and had yet to be called to the stand.

"I am not fazed, Jeannette, and it's unfortunate how many times you have disappointed me," James mumbled under his breath so only Jeannette could hear him, leaving Emberline to decipher what he had said that had made Jeannette so utterly devastated.

Soon, she heard stomping on the wood and the climbing of stairs. Her eyes lazily slid onto the door frame, where an angry and sobbing Jeannette stood. Her lips trembled as she raised her accusing finger, wagging it towards Emberline.

"You followed me," Jeannette accused her. All of a sudden, Emberline was on the stand in a different court, where she stood as the suspect.

"I did not," Emberline tried to suppress the panic in her body, wishing sincerely that she couldn't see her trembling hands.

"He was at Aunt Joan's house, and there was no one in the house when I left," Jeannette said, staring at Emberline as blankly as one could.

"He said he saw you himself. Why are you mad at me?" Emberline choked on her words. She felt her body tense as Jeannette neared.

"Swear on Mama," Jeannette ordered her. Emberline was taken aback but didn't hesitate. "I swear!" she shouted finally.

Jeannette, who had been inching forward, took a step back. "You are disgusting," she sneered. "Don't you ever talk to me again, don't ever follow me—I will never talk to you again!" she cried before she slipped out of the room. Emberline felt the lump in her throat grip her breath, and soon she was gasping for air.

Emberline had hoped that Jeannette would come around, but she was firm on her promise from then on.