Sky and Caddy were made together—made for each other, Caddy always joked before she got a discreet elbow to the side. Their predecessors, they learned quickly, had made some kind of daring escape only a day prior. The Diamonds thought them long gone, but the Pearls they spoke to all clung firmly to the hope that they'd made it to Earth. Caddy thought it was exciting, getting to follow in the two rebels' footsteps. Sky thought it was more than she could ever hope to live up to.
When she told Caddy that, the other Pearl just laughed—the loud, nasally laugh that should have been irritating but was usually just endearing—and told Sky she was overthinking things. Told her not to try and replace the last Pearl, because she was more than enough on her own.
It was a nice thought, and she loved Caddy for saying it, but it was hard to believe when the other Pearls stared and whispered and expected more than she could give them.
Caddy had it easier in some ways, because the Pearl that she'd taken the place of hadn't been nearly as well-liked. But Sky wasn't under any delusions that Caddy's life was better than hers—she saw quickly that the other Pearl was all too breakable under her breezy exterior, that she had her own nagging insecurities that ate away at her.
They were both replacements, after all, and that was hard to forget.
Life moved fast for new Pearls though, especially Diamonds' Pearls, so neither of them had time to process much of anything. They just kept their heads held high and tried to help each other through the confusion. Within days, they were officially part of the rebellion, sneaking away whenever possible with information, conveying it however they could when their mouths refused to allow it to escape.
They got names too, which was exciting. The rebellion thus far had seemed to settle mostly on colors for names, and Caddy all too eagerly picked out Cadmium, her mouth sounding it out syllable by syllable and stretching out the vowels proudly. It was a fancy name, she said, and Sky thought it suited her, even if it was kind of a mouthful. She was the first to shorten it to Caddy, and the other Pearl was delighted with the nickname. Meanwhile, Sky picked something simple and a little bit different, glad for a chance to distinguish herself from all the blues that surrounded her. "Sky" sounded big and optimistic and free, and she wanted to be all of those things.
The day they picked names was the first day she felt really, fully herself. She wasn't just a Pearl, she was someone, and there were people who recognized her as that someone. She felt so at home in those few minutes with Caddy's arm around her shoulders that she didn't mind a bit when she got summoned back to court and had to run off. She was glad her Diamond never paid her much attention, because it was hard to keep from smiling.
Sky. It felt like a gift, and Caddy welcomed her back with it the next time they saw each other.
They weren't the only two Diamonds' Pearls though. White—if they called her that in the short time they knew her, neither could remember—was also made alongside them, merely by coincidence. She was quiet and withdrawn and jumpy, and she didn't join the rebellion. Other Pearls told them, when Caddy complained about White's lack of interest, that it was only to be expected with White Diamond's Pearls. They didn't last long, and they knew it. There was a rumor that the long line of Pearls that came before somehow passed down this knowledge, but it could just have easily been others warning the newcomers of what awaited them. Sky didn't have the courage to ask about it.
They never talked to the first White all that much anyway.
She disappeared without a word, and it was only later that Sky discovered what had happened. Another Pearl took her place immediately, and she was gone, becoming part of the crowd of Pearls before her who no one could remember very well.
Sky thought it would be much the same with the next Pearl, but she was wrong. The second Pearl was more talkative, working her way into their lives without much effort. She was forever nervous, but she was friendly and she asked to be called by name—the first of White Diamond's Pearls ever to have one. Sky liked her, in the tentative way Pearls liked things that couldn't last.
This White was a dancer, draped in frills and flowy things that were soft to the touch and comforting to rest her cheek against. This White clung to Sky and Caddy instead of shying away, because she knew her time was short even if she never said it aloud. She was with the rebellion because they were, and it might not have been the best reason to join but neither of them judged her for it.
This White, who Sky tried desperately not to get attached to, was perceptive, and she knew when her time had come. On the last day, she held tightly to Caddy and Sky and did her best not to cry as they said their goodbyes. Before her Diamond called for her, White took hold of Sky's sleeve and leaned in close to press her lips against Sky's urgently. Her skin screamed don't forget and soon she was gone, off to be shattered or harvested or whatever it was that happened to the victims of White Diamond's whims.
The terrible thing, Sky thought, was that there was so little to remember. Maybe in another time and place, the kiss would have felt right, would have tasted like something other than tears, but they were Pearls. All Sky could do with this one was scrub it from her lips and let it slip between her fingers to the empty spaces inside of her. It rattled there, much as she wished it wouldn't, reminding her that she was not Blue Diamond's last Pearl. She, surely, could have done something for White that Sky couldn't.
Caddy held her that day, quiet for once, and Sky was grateful for the long meeting that kept their Diamonds occupied. She tucked her cheek against the ruffles Caddy hated and cried silently, breathlessly. Caddy cried with her, hand tangling in Sky's ponytail and mussing it beyond recognition, but she didn't mind. Caddy always felt warm and alive, and Sky shivered against her until White's kiss quieted, settled into every inch of her skin, and felt more like a promise than a burden.
Don't forget, she told herself.
They were more than vague numbers, weren't they? They were Pearls. They deserved to be remembered properly.
The third White—the current White—was nothing like the second, and Sky was relieved. This one was strange, brash and fearless and disconnected. She threw her whole being into living. She breathed rebellion from the very first day and never stopped or second-guessed herself. She didn't let herself get weighed down by anything, not even her rapidly approaching death, and volunteered for risky tasks with the full knowledge they could get her shattered if she was caught.
"I'm shattered anyway," she always said. "Might as well make myself useful in the meantime."
It didn't leave her much time for socializing, which was good. Sky needed the space.
This White was Caddy's favorite though, she could tell. She kept on trying to talk to her, trying to form even the smallest hint of a friendship. It hurt to watch, because Caddy was so earnest with her affection and White deflected it without a second thought.
Don't you know what you're missing? Sky wanted to ask her, because Caddy was the best gem she knew and she wanted White to see that too.
It was probably for the best though. Caddy would only get hurt, and Sky didn't wish that on her. But at the same time, it would be nice if White didn't always keep them at a distance. Diamonds' Pearls should stick together, Sky thought. They could understand each other.
But this White was good for the rebellion, and she'd always be grateful for that much. Even if her confidence was a byproduct of her terrible circumstances, they needed Pearls like her.
But until the next White, it would be Sky and Caddy, together, like always. When the time came, Sky would be the one doing the holding as Caddy cried messy tears into her shoulder, and it would hurt but it would pass and they would remember.
In the meantime, they'd make sure no one ever called White a replacement. That much, at least, they could do for her.