Under the Peach Tree by Charlay Marie

here. She hadn’t wanted to come. It was all my fault. I ran out the back door, looking for my twin, and ran into a few girls walking away from the party. I stopped them as they were getting into their car.
    â€œHey, y’all seen a light-skinned chick with a long flowered dress?” They shook their heads and got into the car. Felling hopeless, I ran up to a boy with a red afro. “You seen a light-skinned girl with a flowered dress?” He shook his head no too. I walked around to the front of the house. A few police officers were standing on the porch; one had a dark-skinned boy in handcuffs, escorting him to one of the three police cars. Another police officer stood on the side of the first car, pushing a girl inside. I studied the floral print dress she wore. It was the same as Faith’s. My heart stopped.
    I ran closer, but stayed far enough away so that I could run if the police tried to question me. I waited for the officer to move away from her door and walk to the driver’s side, but even then her face was turned away. I prayed like crazy, hoping that it wasn’t Faith. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t her fault, she hadn’t drunk anything, and she’d just sat there all innocent.
    â€œGod, she’s a good girl, please don’t let it be her,” I prayed, but even if it wasn’t, then where was she? The police car roared to life and pulled off, but just before it drove out of view, I saw the most delicate face turn toward the window. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
    They had Faith.
    Â 
    Â 
    It took four hours to walk home. Four long, arduous hours. I spent the time crying and praying, and when I wasn’t crying or praying, I was running through all of the things that could’ve happened to her. Maybe they took her to prison where she’d have to fight to keep her goodies away from raging lesbian prisoners. Maybe she escaped from the police car and ran for it. Maybe they took her to jail and Momma would have to bail her out. Or maybe it wasn’t Faith. Maybe someone else had that same hideous dress and looked similar. Regardless of what happened, I was a dead girl walking.
    I had been hoping that I’d be able to hitch a ride home, but it was a lonely walk. Only one car passed by and they were headed in the other direction. I had wasted so much time looking for Faith, I missed any opportunity of a ride home. Luckily only one freeway passed our little town, and I knew my way home. If Momma found out, I was dead. Literally. Looking back at life, I now laugh at this situation. It was one of the lesser evils I’ve committed. I’d relive it one hundred times over the other things I’d face in life.
    By the time I reached our front yard, my feet were calloused and swollen and I had sobered up. The sun began to creep up from behind the distant hills, casting an ominous shadow over my house. I could easily sneak into my room and pretend that nothing happened, but something did. Something big. I took two steps into our yard before I saw Momma sitting stoically on the porch. I almost ran back from where I came but decided to get it over with. I slowly began walking toward her.
    â€œTake your time. You better enjoy these last few seconds of your life,” she said, still not moving an inch. Dread replaced every atom in my body. She knew, somehow, she knew what happened.
    â€œMomma—”
    â€œSave your words, you’re gonna need them to explain to God why you died before your time.” She was so serious. I nodded and wiped an unruly tear from my right eye. I stood before the porch and hesitated.
    One . . . two . . . three. I mentally counted each step as I passed them. Four. Momma jumped up from her chair and snatched me up before I could get to five.
    I stared up into her low, feral eyes. My own were wide with fear. She yanked me into the house where both Faith and John sat. I didn’t bother to look at him. I didn’t want