It was her beautiful hair that I noticed first. That shiny black hair trying to keep up with her twisting head as she rode one of the library ladders. I’d played this game myself, riding the ladder down the aisle far faster than the designer had intended, and always to the ire of Ms. Reynolds. This girl was serious though, pulling book after book as she struggled to balance the stack in her arms. I tried to emulate her hair and failed miserably. Mine ended up too short and all pinky blue. It drew her attention and a smile.
Marine Reynolds was Ms. Reynolds’s granddaughter; taller than me (she was always taller than me, no matter how hard I tried), with fair skin, deep eyes, and that beautiful hair. From that first meeting as kids, we became fast friends. Marine spent a lot of time in the Vault when she was young. She practically grew up there. Her mother had died in childbirth. Her father didn't deal well with the loss or the responsibility of raising a child and left. Marine and I had this in common, and I knew it helped her to have someone to talk to, to rely on. For me, it was a lifesaver to know I had a friend who simply enjoyed my company and who wasn’t afraid of me.
Often at night Marine would sneak into my room. With a wry smile, she'd lay out books pilfered from the library. It was Marine who sparked my interest in reading, though we tended to like different topics. She was always good at finding books for both of us. We'd read for hours past bedtime. Once Marine fell asleep I'd read thru the night. Something she'd cry out in her sleep. I'd hold her and stroke her hair. Were her nightmares that horrible? For one person in the world, my presence was calming.
I loved her, I just didn’t understand how much until we started to grow up and she began to spend more time away.
