Chapter One

On Saturday, Grandma Mary arrived at the old LeTwainey house with devastating news. My parents had just been killed at the corner of Burnes and Lundy. It was July 11th. I’ll never forget it, for it was the day of my 13th birthday, and they had gone to go pick up the cake I had been looking forward to seeing and eating all week. It was to have been three shades of pink, my favourite color at the time, and would have a special inscription on it just for me. I never found out what it was.

My initial reaction when Grandma Mary told me was to kick and scream and shout what a liar she was. How dare she tell me something like that on my birthday! However, when she put her arms around me and pulled me into a great heartfelt hug, I knew it had to be true--Grandma Mary never physically showed signs of affection. After some time she let go, and I immediately sat down in my father’s overstuffed, very comfortable arm chair and cried my eyes out. I completely broke downI felt faint, I felt stomach-sick, but even worse, I already felt unbearably lonely. My parents had been everything and more to me. I didn’t really have many friends those days, at least none I could truly count on, my parents were my very best, and after their death, I completely isolated myself from all of the other kids at school.

As I sat in the chair so familiar, yet suddenly so strange, I was positively choking on my tears. I didn’t even care that they were falling all over the place. What would happen to me now? I had no living relatives except an uncle we hadn’t heard from in years, who clearly didn’t want anything to do with us. Would I be sent to an orphanage, or foster home, and never see my home again? I couldn’t even bear to think such thoughts. I remember Grandma Mary coming slowly toward me again, but I couldn’t bear another one of her hugs so soon, so I pulled my knees to my chest, buried my face into my arms, and disappeared into my own semi-conscious world of misery.

When I awoke, I found myself safely in my own bed, and with a massive headache. I rolled over and looked at the time on my alarm clock. It was 7:00 P.M. I must’ve been knocked out for hours, and had no idea how I had gotten there. It was dinner time. Why was I in bed? I realized as I sat up that I was wearing regular clothes, not pajamas. Surely Mom wouldn’t have put me in bed with dirty clothes on; she was always so careful to warn me not to do it.

I walked to the living room and saw Grandma Mary sitting there in the quiet having a cup of tea. What was she doing here? And where were my parents? And suddenly, like a flash of lightning, it hit me. Something cold seemed to squeeze my heart, and a wave of fear and panic struck through my whole body. I literally ran over to the calendar on the wall and it all came back to me clear as daylight. My parents weren’t there, and never would be again.

“Amber, dear, come over and sit down. I’ll fix you up some tea,” said Grandma Mary in a soft, considerate voice. Grandma Mary always thought tea could cure anything. Tea wouldn’t cure this most awful thing, though. Not for Amber.

“Grandma Mary, how did it happen?” I asked, my voice quivering.

“Oh, Amber. It was a car accident, I’m afraid. It was a terrible scene, dear. You wouldn’t want me to explain it to you. Oh, Amber. You’re much too young for this, much too young…” Grandma Mary looked sympathetically at Amber, who couldn’t look back.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen…This WAS NOT supposed to happen!” I shrieked a little louder. I started to feel really angry. How could they abandon me? On my birthday!”

“Things like this are never supposed to happen, Amber. Sometimes life just goes in opposite directions than you wish it to. Nobody plans for these things to happen, Amber. There isn’t a way to prepare for them. I know how you feel…”

“It’s my entire fault. If they hadn’t been going to get that cake…that cake is the only reason they left the house. And now they’re gone for good…because of a cake…”

“Amber LeTwainey! Don’t you ever go saying such a thing! It is most definitely not your fault, and I never want to hear you say it again! Amber, we can blame ourselves all we want for the deaths of those close to us, but it isn’t at all. Death is nature’s course. Everybody dies in due time, some just sooner than others. It takes a long time to get over, Amber, and most people never get over the deaths of those they love. I know, Amber. When Barry died, I wanted to blame myself night and day for what had happened. I thought the same kinds of things you probably are right now. But it only ended up making me more and more depressed, and you have to keep thoughts like those out of your mind. Oh, Amber. This is all too sudden for me to be saying, I know. You don’t want to hear about my story right now.”

“Grandma Mary, I’d really like some tea now.”

“Certainly, certainly. I’ll just go heat up some for you now. It’ll help settle your stomach a bit. Would you like a bit of sugar in it?”

I just nodded. My eyes started to water. My mom always made a big deal of having sugar in your tea. She said it tasted absolutely horrible without it, and that anybody who could stand it must have really strange taste. I used to hate the taste of any sort of tea, but once Mom introduced me to tea with sugar, it kind of became a routine thing to drink in our house.

“Here you are, sweetheart. Would you like anything else? Anything to eat?”

My stomach churned at the thought. There was no possible way I’d be able to eat anything of substance at that moment and keep it down. It was almost too much to drink the tea, but I needed something warm inside me, as it was now raining outside and dreadfully cold in the old brick house.

“No, thank you, Grandma Mary. This is enough.”

Grandma Mary sat across from me and merely sat in silence, watching her sip her tea cautiously.

“What will happen to them?” I asked.

“What, dear?” Grandma Mary was starting to look tired.

“What will happen to Mom and Dad? Will there be a funeral? Who’s taking care of the accident?”

“Well, Amber, I was only driving by when I saw. I recognized their car at once, of course. There were several police cars and an ambulance already there, so I suspect they were taken away to the hospital. There was no way they could’ve survived, though, the car was almost ripped to shreds. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but there was at least one other car involved. There was fire, Amber. Your parents looked badly burned. Oh, dear, forgive me; I don’t want to put images into your head. Oh, Amber,” she said, sighing my name again.

“It’s alright. I want to know what happened to my parents, no matter what. But what will happen to me, now? Where will I go?”

“Well, Amber. You know how much I love you, right?”

“Yes, I do, Grandma Mary. I know.”

“I know I’m an old lady, but I don’t know how I couldn’t ask you to come and stay with me. I could desperately use some company, and I think we would both be able to help each other cope.”

“Grandma Mary, I…I don’t know what to say. I suppose I will, yes. Oh, I was so afraid of being put in a foster home!”

“Don’t worry, Amber. I won’t let that happen as long as I’m alive. And we’d only be living next door, so you wouldn’t have to move away or change schools. We’ll get it all worked out in time, my dear. Right now, however, I think you really need some more rest. This has been much too much to deal with in one afternoon. I’ll spend the night with you here tonight, and we’ll see how you are in the morning.”

“Okay,” I said, handing her my empty cup of tea, getting up to head to my bedroom. “Thanks.”

I walked slowly back to my bedroom, closed the door, and changed for bed. I turned on the lamp by my bedside, pulled out my journal, and attempted to write my thirteen-year-old feelings on what had happened that day. The only result, however, was managing to write two lines, and the tears came flooding back, raining down onto the pages and smearing the ink. I closed it and sunk down into my bed, pulling the covers up.

Grandma Mary came in to tuck me in later, and I pretended to be asleep. I couldn’t sleep all night, though, thinking about my parents…how just that morning they had come in so happy to see me, ready to celebrate the day with me and have a ton of fun.

Happy Birthday to me, I thought, just before drifting off into sleep, finally.



Morning seemed to come quickly. I woke up and saw that it was 8:02 A.M. I hurriedly put on whatever clothes were first in the drawer, and walked down to my parents’ bedroom. I slowly opened the door, and was surprised to see what I saw. It was exactly the same as it had always been. The lavender bed, the honey oak chest, the tall dresser with all of my mother’s perfumes and some of her necklaces, and my dad’s guitar over in the corner. I sat on the bed, and leaned back so that I was on my back and looking up at the ceiling. I turned my head, and breathed in the scent I knew was distinctly my mother’s. It smelled of jasmine and water lilies. I loved that smell. I could feel the tears coming again, but tried to hold them back. I hated to cry. Mom always used to tell me that it was okay to cry when we felt sad, that we had to show our emotions and not hold them inside of us where they pile up and make us feel even worse. Lying on the bed, I felt as though I could lie there forever and cry until I couldn’t cry anymore. I wanted to shut the door to their room and never come out. I wanted to take things and throw them against the wall, in anger. But I knew they wouldn’t have liked me to do something like that, and I didn’t have enough strength to do it on my own will.

“Amber?”

My heart stopped beating for a couple of seconds. I nearly jumped in fright. I looked toward the door, and it was only Grandma Mary, wearing the same tired look as the night before, but a different blue and brown dress. Those seemed to be the only two colors she ever wore. She was also wearing a pale blue sweater over it, with her brown old-lady shoes on that made me quickly glance away whenever I looked at them. Suddenly, I got this feeling in my stomach, and it just made me want my mom even more.

“Grandma Mary, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” she said. That “dear” was already starting to annoy me, and now I’d have to hear it every day. I know most old ladies liked to call children that, and it was more than fine from time to time, but she started to address me with that word almost every time she spoke to me. It was weird for Grandma Mary. She had always been kind and nice to me, but she never spoke very affectionately. I didn’t want things to change. I didn’t want her to call me “dear” out of pity. It wasn’t what I liked about Grandma Mary. Maybe some people liked special treatment when tragedies struck, but at age eleven I already knew I definitely did not.

I just wanted to be normal “Amber,” a girl who always had a smile on her face, who had parents who loved her, and friends who were always there for her. It seemed impossible that I would ever be that person anymore. Why did bad things always happen to people who didn’t deserve them? I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was just living my normal ten-year-old life, looking forward to my 11th birthday, and suddenly, everything came to a halt. My parents only had the intention of leaving the house for 15 minutes, and that 15 minutes turned into forever. How it would be possible to ever have a “happy” birthday again, I wondered. I wouldn’t, I decided. I couldn’t be happy on a day that my parents had died on. At such a young age, I already dreaded getting older.

“Amber, you’d better come have some breakfast,” said Grandma Mary, interrupting me from my thoughts. I was getting a little hungry, not having eaten anything since the morning before.

“Okay.”

I tried to be brave on the outside, dealing with the pain. Inside I was so lost. But you would expect that, wouldn’t you? I was starting to feel like maybe I didn’t belong there anymore. Maybe it would’ve been better to just find a new family and start over. I wanted to slap myself for thinking that, at the same time. How could I so quickly be thinking about leaving the only place I had ever known to be truly my own? Leaving would be like admitting I was ready to leave my parents behind, and what a cruel thought that was. You can’t forget the people who raised you, who loved you more than anybody else in the world.

I followed Grandma Mary out of the room, softly shutting the door behind me. The house was hot and got very stuffy in the middle of July without an air conditioner. As we passed the living room I turned on the fan sitting on the table and went into the kitchen, turning on the fan there as well. I felt overheated and my mouth parched, so I got a glass out of the top cupboard, got some ice out of the freezer with an unsteady hand, and ran some tap water into the glass. I must’ve downed the whole glass in about ten seconds. That didn’t seem to help cool me down. I got some more ice out and started to rub it straight onto my skin, almost like I was trying to control an itch. I didn’t feel myself anymore…

“Amber, honey, are you-“ Grandma Mary started.

“Alright? Okay? Why would you even ask such a question?! Do I look alright? Do I look fine?? I’ve just lost my mom and dad! How fine could I be? Not at all fine!”

“Amber, I’m sorry. I know nothing I could say right now can probably console you or make you feel any better, but-“

“That’s right, Grandma Mary. There isn’t a thing you could say. Not one thing! Oh, I feel so out of control! I’m lost! I’m not myself! I’m hungry!” I cried, starting to sob.

“Amber…” said Grandma Mary, starting to come over and put her arm around me. I pulled away.

“No! Please don’t touch me. Please. I can’t handle it. That’s not you. You’ve never done it before, so don’t do it now. Not when I feel like I’m going to collapse at any minute.”

“If that’s what you want, Amber. What can I make you for breakfast?”

“I…I can get my own breakfast. I don’t need you to get it for me. I’ll be fine.” I was starting to feel very rebellious. If my mom wasn’t here to make my breakfast anymore, I didn’t want anybody else to.

“Okay, Amber. I’m going to go next door for a minute and grab something to eat for myself and a book. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t bother, Grandma Mary. Stay over there as long as you want. I can take care of myself, for now. I just…I just want to be alone for now, alright?”

“Amber, I shouldn’t leave you in this house alone…”

“What will happen? I’m right next door, if somebody tries to…oh, I don’t know, break in and kidnap me? Grandma Mary, please, just leave and let me be alone for awhile. I can come over if something’s wrong or if I need company. But I really don’t think I do right now.”

Grandma Mary nodded. “If you need anything, though, I’ll be there.”

She turned and exited the room. I heard the front door close after her. I felt a bit sorry for her, myself. We were both sad and lonely, and while she wanted my company, it was only the day after the accident and I just wasn’t up to that yet.

I got out a bowl and poured myself some cereal and milk. I managed to keep it down and then just sat there in the kitchen, staring into space and feeling absolutely nothing. I realized I was still hungry, so I poured some more cereal and milk, and on my way back to the table, I noticed something on the table I hadn’t before. It was a card. I noticed my mother’s beautiful calligraphy print on the envelope, and saw that it read my name, Amber Rose, with a few hearts around it. I had always read about things like this. Somebody close dies, and shortly, or even some time after it, you find something they’ve left for you. I never thought it would actually be happening to me. I turned it over and was about to open it, but I decided to stop myself. I didn’t want to read what may have been my mother’s last words to me just then. I would just break down all over again, and I didn’t want that to happen. I decided I’d save it for a time when I felt more stable and on my feet, however long that might take, even if it took years. I took the envelope, leaving my cereal bowl on the table, and went back to my room. I got out the box of cards I’d kept from people my entire life, and put it on the bottom, getting one last glimpse of my name.

Amber Rose. My mother’s favorite stone was amber, and her favorite flower was a rose. I always thought my name was special for that reason. It actually had some meaning, it wasn’t just randomly thought out. Or maybe I just simply thought about it too much, and couldn’t let any memory of my mother go.