I'm Still Sadie

T.S. Nelliot

T.S. NELLIOT

Waving her off, I hopped out of Brandi's truck and onto the driveway of Nell's house. Soon my ride was speeding off down the street, and I was clutching the sketches of Nifty Nell close to my chest so the rain wouldn't ruin them.

I ran up the driveway and onto the doorstep of the Kissinger household, my hair dripping splotches of water onto my clothes.

Oh Newt Adler, why did you have to be right with your forecast?

Being as close as I was to my previous life, it was as if the universe just wanted to rain on my parade.

Literally.

"Penellope Iris Kissinger," Nell's dad scolded as I opened the front door to the house. "Where have you been? You weren't at Sadie's, I was worried."

"Sorry," I mumbled, slipping out of my now damp shoes.

Leaning against the white countertop and sporting a 'Kiss the Cook' apron, Nell's dad did not break eye contact with me. "Who dropped you off?" he asked.

"Brandi."

"Brandi Schumann? Since when are you two friends?"

"It's not important," I said, attempting to brush away the subject, yet it wasn't enough to deter Nell's dad's glare away from me.

"Now, I'm only upset because you didn't tell anyone where you were going, and just neglected your chores."

"Well, I'm here now. And I'll do my chores."

"It's only right," he said, "Now hop to it."

First on the list of Nell's daily chores was making her bed — even I knew that one —but considering she spent the night at my place last night, it'd be safe to consider that task done.

That left the laundry. I sent myself up the stairs to Nell's bedroom to find a safe spot for the sketches of Nifty Nell. Underneath the covers of her bed became their temporary home, and I hoped that neither of Nell's pesky siblings would find it before she did.

I collected loose articles of clothing that were strewn across the room, and threw the ones that didn't pass the sniff test into a pile. And while doing laundry at my own house was such a mundane task, doing it for Nell was an adventure. It led to me to uncover unbelievable things, like a pair of ripped jeans that I hadn't seen her wear before, and a neon yellow headband that I don't think anybody in this decade would wear.

But it was a pair of loose underwear that lead me to my next discovery. As I went to return the underwear to its resting place, a beat up brown notebook caught my eye.

Without thinking, I scooped it up from the underwear drawer and inspected it.

Sure enough, it was her poetry book. I had been the one to go with her when she bought it from the thrift store, and also the one to persuade her not to get such an old book. But she shooed me off from making that decision, deeming the book 'vintage'. Meanwhile, I found myself sneezing the entire trip home from all the dust on the thing.

Nell's poems were very personal; she had never shown them to me. Curiosity got the best of me in this case, and I then skimmed through the pages. Nell organized her notebook like a diary, writing the dates on the top of the page. My thumb stopped on an entry from two weeks ago, on my last day of Sadie.