At first, the optimistic part of Anne had suspected it would pass, and that was a sizable part of her. But even the most optimistic- or as Mrs. Hammond might say, stupid- person could not deny that Lily would die.
In a twisted effort to soothe her family, Mrs. Hammond had told them that it was a good thing that Lily would die now, while she was young and hadn't had a chance for the world to make her unhappy. She said it was good that she could die and still be the cheerful little six-year-old she always was, even at the worst times. And, as Anne had decided, this definitley counted as the worst of times.
When Lily had first fallen ill, Anne had been the one to attempt to nurse her back to health. She always was, for that was something Mrs. Hammond hated: sickness. Anne had tried to come up with a dramatic and exciting name for Mrs. Hammond's phobia, but she secretly chalked up this "fear" to pure laziness. She did not blame her guardian, for she herself would have shoved the duty on someone else had the oppurtunity arrived. But as Lily's mysterious illness got worse, her mother insisted that she should try to nurse her. While Anne was thankful to have the burden off her back, she worried that Mrs. Hammond was not adept enough to even try to heal her daughter. Mrs. Hammond might have had more time in the world, but Anne had the most experience.
Her relief was short lived, for she substitituted one sick girl for six sour children. They had already been her responsibility, but now with the favorite bedridden and their mother absent, they became even more unruly.
On the first day of the third month of Lily's illness, Marienne decided that her siblings better get used to funerals. Anne discovered them at the brink of the woods, humming a solemn dirge in a circle around a box.
"Oh, tell me you have not killed an innocent animal for your own twisted purposes." She scolded loudly, nearing the circle faster. It was somthing Marienne had talked about doing for a great while now, to Anne's everlasting anger.
"Of course not, Anne." Marienne, the default leader as the oldest, was definitley the most saucy of the six. While the words themselves seemed innocent enough, she said them with a smirk and crossed her arms. "The animal was already dead."
As the oldest stepped aside for Anne to see, there was a dead bullfrog arranged neatly inside a small wooden box and perched on a rock. They had wrapped it in a cloth from the chest down, and had attempted to cross its arms in an imitation of a typical corpse.
"No, no. I have told you this was the worst idea you could come up with. You deliberately did this before dawn so I couldn't see it." She gently pushed Harley aside so she could approach the rock. When she picked it up, the thin cloth fell out and floated to the ground.
Ignoring it, she turned to the dissapointed six. Ellen, who had obviously been the preacher of sorts, took off her black towel and threw it down angrily. "Way to ruin everything, Anne." She said. "Just like you always do."
Anne gently removed the frog from the box and laid him near a tree. "This," she said evenly, giving the box to Ellen, "is not fun. This is sick, as I have told you. Your sister is dying, and you want to make a game out of it?"
No one spoke. She began to heard them back towards the house. but they stood steadfast.
"Whatever is the matter with you all?" She demanded.
When they realized Anne actually wanted an answer, they all turned towards Marienne. She did not seem surprised she had been thrown to the lions. "We were doing it for Lily." She muttered, looking away from Anne.
"How is making fun of her death an honor?"
Edison rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't understand. You're a grownup."
Much as she liked to hear that, they all knew it was a lie. She was barely a year older than Marienne. The only adult attribute she had was authority over them, and she didn't really even have that.
"Would you please tell me?" She asked calmly, trying not to be angry.
Marienne exchanged glances with the rest of her siblings, but if asking permission or looking for someone to speak, Anne did not know. Finally, Marienne said, "This was Lily's idea. She wanted us to have a funeral for her, just by ourselves. She's the one who thought we should have a fake one first, to practice. She didn't think that the funeral Mama was gonna give her was gonna be the one she wanted."
Anne merely blinked. Here she had been thinking that Lily was the most cheerful and innocent, when she had been planning funerals and talking about her own death so casually.
"So...you weren't doing this for fun?" Anne asked, still unsure.
Jen scowled. "We're awful, but you think we're having fun about our little sister dying?"
The others shook their heads. Indeed, they did not look to be having fun. In fact, they looked almost...depressed.
Suddenly, Anne felt guilty for interrupting them. Obviously, they were trying to do something nice for their sister.
Turning, she gently picked the frog back up and gave it to Jen. "I'll help you finish this one, and then you can know how to do it later." Anne said tightly. She knew she was going to cry when she got back to the house, but she hated to cry in front of them, when Lily wasn't even her sister. But when she saw Marienne shed a tear or two while they prayed aloud, she felt alright about it.
At lunchtime, they surprised her by asking to eat with Lily. Of course she agreed, and Mrs. Hammond even left so they could talk about their latest mischief without fear of retribution. When they told Lily they had given the bullfrog a funeral, she smiled. "Did you make sure to use a Bible?" She asked Marienne, the director.
She scoffed. "Of course. You wouldn't leave me alone about it."
"You can't have a funeral without a Bible." She said stoutly.
During this conversation, Anne slipped out of the room, having finished her lunch and wanting to leave them alone. She found Mrs. Hammond listening at the door.
"They'll be alright." She rushed to say.
Mrs. Hammond gave her what could have been a smile, had she been a different person. "I know. I wish I could say the same for me."
Anne did not know what to say to that, so when Mrs. Hammond lowered her head, she walked out of the hallway. She had some private crying to do.