clementine

prologue

The thing about stories, stories of any kind, is that they all have to begin somewhere. The tricky thing is finding where that moment is. That's the main reason that I failed Creative Writing in freshman year – my 'once upon a times' were all over the place. When do you look back and think 'Oh, this is all that I need to tell this story'? How do you pick and choose and cut out parts that could be crucial for someone to understand the misunderstood?

And when the story is as important as this one, I just can't find it in me to decide exactly when Clementine Ross's life started to stop. The papers will tell you that it was that night, students will say it was just weeks, the librarian will tell you it was a few months ago. I guess if I had to agree with one of those time limits, I would side with Doris, the local librarian. Clementine did 'begin' to act a little... different a few months back, but... hadn't she always been different? When was Clementine ever ordinary? I don't think a single ordinary thought ran through her extraordinary head in all of her seventeen years.

But, for the sake of what I believe, and what I truly think about Clementine Ross, this story began in the summer, eight years ago. For me, that marked the start of the story titled, 'Clementine's Life'. I guess it's kind of a short story, when you look at it in the grand scheme of things.

I wish that there was more that I could have done for Clementine. Sorry. I'll try not to do that. There was undoubtedly more that I could have done for her. More that we all could have done. It's just that sometimes I want things to change so badly that I convince myself that they did, if only for a second.

Sometimes I just want to say things that I shouldn't. Things that I'm not supposed to say. I'll let you figure out what the truth is.

And let's get this clear; I am not Clementine Ross. I was not her sister, or her best friend in the world, or even a person that she opened up to completely when she was devastatingly drunk one night. And every time someone solemnly asks (and this happens more than you would think), "Did you know her?", I respond with a curt shake of my head.

But that doesn't mean that I don't know more than the rest of all the idiots in this town combined.

It was a terrible thing that happened to Clementine Ross, and I believe that her story should be told as much as it possibly can. Funnily enough, her story is somewhat strikingly intertwined with mine, especially seen as I refuse any association with a girl like Clementine, dead or alive.

Maybe I had more to do with her... accident than a lot of other people. I like to think that I mattered more to Clementine than she led on, and then again I really hope that I didn't. It's an odd thing, to wonder if you are the reason that somebody is dead. Perhaps we will uncover clues that I previously overlooked in retelling this story. I hope that we don't. I hope that I never know.

I'll try to tell her story the way she would have liked, and you'll understand that a little more once you get to know the dead girl. In saying this, I will also make sure to force myself to include the pieces that she would have preferred to be lost in the abyss. Because they are all pieces. It's not like she'd ever know, anyway. But between the beginning, and the end, there are parts of her story that have to be left out.