STAMP OF APPROVAL - a selection story

"why would you pick me?"

L E V I

round thirteen ||

may 14th

[ 3:23 PM ]

As soon as I step through the door, I am back seven years ago, stepping into our house after we had lived in it for about a month.

Abri had found my uniform, tucked deep into the closet. I had wanted to preserve it nicely, in case I would have needed to wear it, but she managed to find it. She had been crying every day since we moved and I couldn't seem to get her to stop, no matter what I did. But once the tears stopped, I wandered around the house to figure out what caused it. That's when I found her in my room, facing the mirror, dressed in my uniform, tears drying on her cheeks. She strutted around the room, the clothing obviously too big on her, but she didn't seem to mind. She wore it as if it was hers, and I could only lean against the door frame and watch her.

She seemed embarrassed when she realized I was watching her, but she didn't want to take it off. Instead, I pinned it so it fit her a little better, and she wore it the rest of the evening. She didn't want to take it off when it was time for bed, and I didn't have the heart to take it away from her, so I let her sleep in it. It got all wrinkled but it stopped her tears.

I never really did ask why she wanted to wear it. I assumed because it had all the cool medals on it, along with all the colored threading. Because it was mine, and when I came home, she stuck to me like glue, as if she would be afraid I would disappear. Which, in her mind, I did before I left.

The house before me shifts, and suddenly I'm in the living room that I left five months ago.

I hear singing in the kitchen. I am careful to stay quiet as I shut the front door. Her singing continues, so I set down my bag and walk stealthily to the hallway, where I have the perfect view of Abri dancing around the kitchen, a spatula in her hand pointed at her mouth, as her imaginary mic.

Her eyes are closed and I step toward the room.

And just like I did seven years ago, I lean against the door frame, watching my kid sister move around the kitchen, her baking sheet full of cookies forgotten.

When her eyes open and she notices me, she screams.

I double over in laughter at her shocked face.

Her spatula is thrown at my face.

"Ow!" I complain, holding the hit cheek. "What was that for?"

She barrels toward me, enveloping me into the tightest bear hug I've ever been in. I almost topple over but manage to steady myself. But as fast as Abri hugged me, she's even faster at pulling away and whacking my chest.

"Did Charlotte eliminate you?" she practically screeches, and I swear, if I didn't say no she would kill me.

"No," I say, watching as the relief drops on Abri.

"Oh, whew. I thought I was going to quickly learn how to hide a dead body."

I grin cheekily, even though deep inside I feel a pang of... something. Abri doesn't usually joke about dead bodies, especially knowing I've seen them. And not to mention the fact that she's the one who found Mom's body. But I know it's a joke, and I treat it as such. "You would have failed." I step past her into the kitchen. "Are these for me?" I motion to the tray of raw cookie dough.

She moves past me and snags them, as if I was about to plop one into my mouth. "You have to wait until they're cooked. I plan to eat a dozen of them, dipped in milk." The tray goes into the oven, and she sets the timer.