" I can't believe this," Abby grumbled under her breath. "One little slip and it's 'off to the attic, with the cleaning, and the washing, AND THE DUSTING!'" She snapped the stick holding a miniature American flag from the Fourth of July.
"Woah, slow down breaky," I told her, sliding down off the box I had been sitting on.
"Well you said you were coming over to help!" Abby cried. "But I don't see any helping!"
"Alright, alright, sheesh!" I said, picking up a cardboard box. I started stacking them. Suddenly, the stack tipped over. The contents of the top box poured out.
"Great," Abby said. I sighed. The grouchimization put on her still hadn't worn off all the way.
I knelt down and started picking things up, but stopped when I came across two dresses. One was sized for a baby, and the other a five-year-old. Both were green with a yellow flower on the front. On the back the bigger one had a fancy C, and the smaller a fancy A. I laughed, holding up the dresses. "Explain."
Abby chuckled. "Mom used to dress us alike. That changed as soon as I could talk."
I laughed out loud and threw the dresses into the box. I picked up an old photo next. Abby and Cree, about six years younger. They were giving each other bunny ears for the camera, and appeared to be laughing like that was the funniest thing in the world. I smiled. There was another photo of the two of them covered in whipped cream. They had it all over their clothes, Cree had some in her hair, Abby had it on her chin and her nose, and some was on the red hat, which was in Abby's hand.
"Look at this one," I told Abby, showing her the photo. Abby laughed. "She filled Abby's mouth full of whipped cream, and then we started a whipped cream fight."
I giggled.
"Look at these dolls," I said, picking up two dolls. One was brunette with shining blue eyes, and the other had deep black hair and green eyes.
"This one was Cree's," Abby said, kneeling down with me on the other side of the pile and taking the brunette in her hands. "And that was mine." She chuckled again. "We used to have them talk to each other sometimes." She laughed harder.
"What?"
"Abby's doll sometimes talked in third person too. Cree kept pointing that out. Then we'd laugh."
We looked at every item in the pile after that. Old photos, collages, drawings. With almost every one, Abby had another amusing story to tell. All about her and Cree. Their best friendship for seven years.
When we finally finished, the attic was clean. Abby placed one more photo inside, of her and Cree grinning their heads off with their arms around each other. Abby had her hat on in that picture, so I knew without Abby telling me that that one had been taken just a little before Cree had turned thirteen.
She shut the box, then stared at it for a moment. I had a feeling she wasn't quite ready to let all these great memories go. Then she shook her head and headed downstairs. I watched her go, then got ready to climb out the window, same way I had gotten in. I stopped and looked at the box again.
When Abby got home that evening, she was pretty tired. She looked straight at her bed, ready to dive in. She walked towards it and tripped over something. She fell forwards onto her bed. She shot up and turned around. There in the middle of the floor was a big wooden chest. It had taken them quite awhile to move that when they were cleaning the attic. Abby curiously undid the latch. It wasn't locked. She slowly opened the lid.
Inside were the pictures they had seen that morning. There were the dresses, the dolls, the Popsicle-stick boat they had tried to make. Everything. It was all here.
Abby saw the word carved on the inside of the lid. MEMORIES. Underneath it was the picture she had put in the cardboard box last. Abby smiled, a twinkle in her eye.