Dedicating Every Day to You

Chapter Three

I wake up at four in the morning. I know I'm not getting picked up for another twelve hours, but I couldn't sleep a wink.
I don't have much to pack, just some favorite clothes (the rest I'm leaving for Emmy) and a few of my books and a quilt that Miss Falcon made for me.

I was never deprived of anything, not even close, but I just don't need much in life to be happy. My whole history fits in a tie-dyed backpack, and that's okay with me. I'm all packed up, so I walk upstairs and sit in the hall window.

I watch as the sun pokes its head over the horizon, as fingers of delicate pink slowly cover the world in light. Bunnies dash across the front lawn. I long to join them.

At seven twenty three, I hear someone clanking around in the kitchen. At seven twenty five, Emmy walks over to me with a plate of Pop·Tarts. She perches in the window with me and offers me half of an Oreo tart.

We don't say anything. We don't need to.

At eight sixteen, I reach into my backpack and pull out a piece of paper. It's slightly crumpled and stained, written in black pen and blue pen, pencil and Sharpie and purple crayon. I wrote it in case Emmy and I were ever separated, and now is the perfect time to give it to her.

Dear Emmy,
I don't know how to go about saying this, but I'm trying anyway. You're the best friend I've ever had. You're the voice in my head that tells me to keep going, the one who yells at me when I'm being down on myself.

You're always there to catch me when I fall. You're never mean to me, and if I'm ever mean to you, you forgive me. When I first started to dance on pointe, you helped me balance and fix my shoes.

I always knew how to dance and sing, but you've taught me to enjoy them and to never feel pressured to do them if I don't want to. You always encourage me to climb higher, jump farther, and shine brighter.

I hate saying goodbye to you, but I hope you come and visit me soon. Friends may be separated by distance, but our hearts will always be together.

Love, Kathryn

That letter was the hardest thing I ever wrote.

"Kathryn..." Emmy's eyes are full of tears. "I don't even know what to say. This is beautiful."
"Thank you so much, Emilie," I say, smiling.
"I wrote one for you, too. I want you to read it in the park, though. There's a reason for that, but you have to read the letter to understand."

Miss Falcon won't let us go to Diggs Park until we've taken showers (that takes a long time) and had lunch, and until I've checked one last time to make sure I have everything. It's after three thirty when we finally shoulder our backpacks and make the two-block trek to the park, hand in hand.

We perch on the edge of the fountain, our favorite spot. I open the envelope that Emmy gives me and tuck my hair behind my ears before shaking out the letter.

Kathryn,

This letter was hard to write. I keep bursting into tears trying to do this, thinking about sleeping in the basement by myself, having no one to fight over the black jeans or the purple sweater with. I won't be able to watch Disney movies with you or play Für Elise on the piano while you dance on pointe.

I'm going to miss you so much. I was really lonely until you came along, because Livv is way older and always reading. We were friends from the first, probably because for the first three days, we fought about everything.

Look around at the park and everything in it. I have a memory of you doing something with every single thing in the park. Climbing the statues, swinging from the swings, breaking your pinkie under the tree, eating ice cream with you on the fountain.

I want you to keep on dancing and singing, okay? Keep me in your heart when you need an inspiration. Stay yourself. Keep being clever and happy. Be electrifying and funny and bubbly.

Remember who you are.

Love, love, a thousand times love,
Emilie Serena Etienne LaRoux.

I'm crying now, and then Emmy gives me a huge hug and pulls me towards her. Unfortunately, the lip of the fountain is really small, and we both land in the water of the fountain.

"This water," Emmy says, flicking drenched hair out of her face, "is colder than Siberia in January. In the middle of a snowstorm."
"Isn't it always snowing in Siberia?" I'm really bad at geography. And geology and geometry and...all of those other subjects that start with 'G'.

I hear two people laughing. One of the laughs is Miss Falcon's, loud and throaty and bright. I don't recognize the other one. It's sunny and light and definitely masculine. I climb out of the fountain and try to wring the water out of my soaked shorts.

"How you get yourself into these things, Kathryn, I'll never know," Miss Falcon says. I would laugh or make a sarcastic comment, but I'm too busy looking at the man next to her.

He's of about average height, and looks to be Latino. He has hair pulled back into a short ponytail, and a small beard that looks to be well-maintained. He's wearing a suit and sunglasses, and he's smiling.

"Ooh, who are you?" Emmy asks, swinging out of the fountain and splashing me with a fresh wave of cold water.
Miss Falcon straightens up. "Alex, this is Kathryn. Your new daughter. Kathryn, this is your adoptive father, Alexander Hamilton."