All the Good Girls go to Heaven

[ApplesApplesApples]

Chapter 1

My name is Aliyah Peng, and love has destroyed my life.



I used to believe in love. I thought it was light in darkness, that it would move mountains and conquer armies and all those dewy-eyed poetic things. I made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the worst was to love Cayden Morey.

I never realized how quiet a house could become. Sometimes I even hear the silence echoing, it's so deep. I imagine I hear laughter and conversation in other rooms, and on occasion even go to investigate because I've imagined so well.

Of course it isn't always quiet. My daughter Mae comes to visit sometimes, and brings her sons Toby and Marcus. And then for a few hours everything's filled with noise and clatter again as the boys run around, exploring the house and grounds. Mae cooks something delicious and it smells like food and family for a while. It goes right back to the silence, though, once they leave.

But don't think I'm depressed. I'm past that. I achieved my dream of becoming an astronaut. I never went to the moon, but my feet left the ground, and I got to see space, and the earth spinning beneath me. I retired a few years ago after a successful career. And I have a beautiful daughter and two handsome grandsons. I could do without my son-in-law's constant volley of bad jokes and attempts at sounding important, but I really can't criticize my daughter for her bad taste in men. She got that from me.

So, okay, love didn't completely destroy my life. I have a lot more than most people. But even in the middle of the ecstasy I felt when I flew into space, when my grandsons were born, and when my daughter got married, I felt a hollow. It's like someone took a scoop out of something inside of me, something everyone else has intact, and it makes me separate from the world, unable to enjoy it fully. Like it's all water, and I'm just swimming through it until I reach the shore. What's on the shore? I don't know. Maybe that part of me that's missing. Or maybe that's gone altogether.

My friend Bindi died earlier this week. Maybe that's what got me thinking about the past. Bindi got a tough deal, but she died surrounded by family, like I'm sure she wanted. In her twilight years she finally learned to apply makeup correctly, which I'm sure also made her happy. I take the credit for that. I've always been Bindi's fashion counselor. That was a cover for our real connection, though. We never really talked about it in earnest, in our maturity, when we had some perspective, but we both loved the same man. In different ways, it hurt us both.

There must be something in the air. See that little girl running by? That's me. I'm six years old.



I'm running outside now, and I'm about to do the thing on which my entire life hinged. I'm about to meet Cayden.

We grew up neighbors. I'm sure I met him sometime before this, but never in earnest. I don't remember him before this day. And you'll see, it's no wonder I remember this day so clearly.

When I was six I used to play this game called "The Herald." I'd read something about it in a book, I'm sure. The game consisted in getting through a series of obstacles on my way to delivering a message for the king. I generally avoided going past the little house next door for some reason. Maybe my parents had warned me away. I don't remember.

But this day I decided to take a chance and go close to the house. I pretended it was a big castle belonging to an enemy king and that I had to get past undetected.

Concentrated on making sure the enemy king didn't see me I didn't notice something lying on the grass and stepped on it. I stopped and picked it up. It was a little picture frame with a photo of a girl a few years older than me. The glass had a crack in it.

"You broke it!" shouted a voice.

I started in surprise and looked up to see a boy coming toward me from the house, his eyebrows pulled down in anger.

"I didn't break it. It was already broken."

"I've been looking for it all day and now you stepped on it and broke it."



He took it from me and looked it over.

"What was it doing lying on the grass?" I asked.

The boy blushed and seemed to get angrier. "That's none of your business! What were you doing in my yard, anyway? And who are you? No, I don't even care. Just go away. You've already broken my picture." He stuffed the portrait into his pocket and glowered at me. "Why aren't you leaving?"

"I was just playing heralds. I didn't see it." I started to cry.

"Shut up!" He put his fingers in his ears. "La, la, la, la! I can't hear you!"

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to play heralds with me, but now I don't want to play with you. You're mean!"

"Go away!" shouted the boy. "GO AWAY!"

I turned around and ran back home.



Both my parents were home that afternoon, which was a rarity, so I spent some time with them. We watched some of the artsy movies my mother liked and talked about the economy with my dad. I didn't understand either activity, but it made me happy just to be with them.

In the evening I went outside again, thinking of resuming my game of heralds while my mom cooked supper. Over the fence I saw my neighbor playing all by himself with a toy car. He looked so sad that I felt sorry for him, but I couldn't summon up the courage to go over to offer my services as a playmate. I ran back inside before he saw me.



My mother felt faint and had to lie down, so supper was postponed. I went to the living room to watch television and noticed that the front door was open. As I went to close it I heard my father shouting in the kitchen. I ran to investigate.

I found my father scolding my little neighbor. How had he gotten in? Had he sneaked in through the front door when we weren't in the living room? My father smacked him over the head and I squealed.

"Daddy, please don't hurt him!"

"This little delinquent was trying to steal food from our kitchen. This is how criminals start out, Aliyah."

"But he's our neighbor and he's only got a little toy car to play with and nothing else!" I blurted out.

"That's not true!" said the boy angrily.

My father let go of his arm and stepped in front of me. "Is stealing a good thing to do, Aliyah?"

"No... But he doesn't have any friends, daddy."

"We have to punish people who do bad things. That's the only way they learn."



My father grabbed the boy's arm again and dragged him outside. I waited until my dad went to check on my mom and slipped out. The boy was waiting on the other side of the fence.

"It's not true that I don't have any friends," he said.

"Why don't you play with anyone else, then?" I asked. "You looked lonely to me."

He rubbed his head. "Your father hit me really hard."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want him to do that. Were you really stealing food from our kitchen?"

"What's your name?"

"Aliyah. What about you?"



"I like your name."

I frowned. "Why don't you answer any of my questions?"

"Cayden. That's my name." He looked at his shoes. "Do you want ice cream?"

"Ice cream?" I love ice cream. I hadn't eaten supper, but if my parents didn't stay on top of me, I would eat anything. "Okay."

"I have some in my house. Come on."

I felt a thrill of excitement as I followed him up the steps and through the door. The house had seemed like a forbidden castle to me up until then, even though my house was much bigger. I didn't have much of a sense of perspective, and I expected it to be enormous and richly decorated on the inside, like something out of a princess movie.

Instead, my eyes met with a little living room/dining room/kitchen furnished with mismatched furniture, a black-and-white TV, and a young woman sitting staring fixedly at it.

"Hi, mom," said Cayden to the woman. "She's Aliyah." He pronounced my name wrong, but then everyone did until I taught them.

The woman didn't answer.



Cayden opened the fridge and brought out two bucket-sized servings of ice cream. I was delighted and tucked in, ignoring my strange surroundings and the woman who still seemed not to notice us.

"Do you like it?" he asked, preoccupied, as if he expected me to spit it out in his face.

"I love it. Ice cream is my favorite. Well, and cookies. What's your favorite?"

"Cookies."

"You're a copy-cat! I just said that."

"Cookies are my favorite, too."

"Do you have any?" I asked hopefully, although I hadn't even finished my tub of ice cream.

"No. My mom never buys any."

"Is that your mom?" I asked, pointing to the woman on the couch.

Cayden didn't look at her, instead staring at the table. "Yeah," he said quietly.



"Why is she like that?" I whispered.

His eyebrows pulled together and he frowned at me. "She's fine."

"But... why doesn't she talk?"

"She talks. Just not to you. When you leave, she'll talk. It's only because you're here that she's not talking."

"Why does she do that?" I glanced at her to see if I detected any signs that she hated me. Why else would she not talk when I was around? But she didn't even know me. I didn't understand.

"Stop asking stupid questions."

I'd eaten as much ice cream as I could hold. "Do you have any toys?" I wanted to get away from the woman as much as anything.

"They're in my room."

He led me through a door next to the kitchen niche. His room had two beds, a few toys, and another black-and-white TV. I also noticed girlish posters on the walls.

"What's your sister's name?" I asked.

"Trisha," said Cayden. "But she's dead."

"Was she old?" In my mind, death could only come by old age.

"No. She was ten years old."

"Oh." I looked around, hoping to see a picture of her. Then I remembered the portrait I'd stepped on earlier. "Was that her in the picture I broke?"

Cayden nodded and sat down in front of a dollhouse. "It's the only picture we have of her."



I sat down next to him. "Are these her dolls?" I picked up one that had a little dress made of woven grass.

"Yeah. Our dad gave her the dollhouse, and he gave me the game station."

"Where is your dad?"

He shrugged. "I never met him."

I shook my head at the inconsistency. "So how did he give you presents if you've never met him?"

"He sends them in the mail. My mom says he's a bad person. I don't want to meet him anyway. I hate him."

I picked at the woven-grass dress and it started to unravel. Cayden glared at me. "I'll fix it, look!" I said quickly. I did a pretty clumsy job, and he didn't seem very pleased. "I'm sorry. I'll help you make a new one if you want."

"I don't know how to make them. My sister did them."

"How did your sister die?"

His lower lip protruded a bit and I thought he was going to yell at me, but he didn't. "I can tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else."

I quickly crossed my heart. "I promise."

Cayden sighed and began the story.
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new story! If you're reading my other story, Apples, Oranges, and Bell Peppers: The Hogan Family, don't worry; I haven't abandoned it. I'm going to try to post a new chapter of both every day, but if I can't I'll alternate them. Thank you for reading!

[Figwit]

What a great start.  Lovely writing.  You captured the children's conversation perfectly.

[MoMoll]

I like your introduction and what followed. Nicely done. I've bookmarked it.

[JudesSims]

Very nice. I like your writing style.

[Katluvr]

Wow, I love how you started your story!  Your writing is very engaging - I can't wait to read more!

[Sarah_n07]

Great story! I enjoy reading it.

[Teacup Chihuahua]

WOW an excellent start, I agree with Katluvr your writing is very engaging can't wait to read what happens next (have bookmarked)

[loveSims]

Awesome story! Can't wait to see what happen next.

[ApplesApplesApples]

Thanks for all the comments guys! You make me so happy.

[MoMoll]

Waiting with anticipation for the next part. I get frustrated with cliff hangers! PLEASE?!

[ApplesApplesApples]

Chapter 2

"She drowned," said Cayden.

"What?" I said. "That's not a story! Tell me the whole thing."

"What else is there? She drowned. That's how she died."

"No, no, no." I shook my head. "You're doing it wrong. Start over."

"Okay. Once upon a time there was a girl who was my sister and drowned. The end. How do you like that?"

"But how did she drown? And what was she like?"

"She was like my sister." Cayden shrugged.

I frowned. "You're a really bad storyteller. I'm going to help you. Tell me what she looked like. What color was her hair?"

"Black."

"And what else?"

Cayden scratched his head. "Um... she had a round face. Black eyes, darker than mine. And brown skin. Not like yours."

"What did she like to do?"

He smiled as if he remembered something pleasant. "She liked to be outside. She did all kinds of things, like hunting bugs and fishing and running on the hills. She was sad when she had to come inside at night. She taught me to fish."

I had no trouble imagining that. Except... "What clothes did she wear?"

"I don't know! She wore clothes." He seemed upset that I'd interrupted his recollection.

"I'm trying to picture it! Just tell me her favorite color."

"Green."

"Okay, I'll put her in green."



"What next?" I asked when I'd finished reviewing my mental image.

"She drowned."

"That's the ending! Tell me more about her."

He pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes closed as if my voice hurt his head. "You're annoying."

"So are you! You won't tell me anything."

"Fine." He opened his eyes. "We always had to take care of our mom, and sometimes it was harder than other times, but Trisha always took care of me when our mom couldn't. Sometimes mom would just get angry at anything, and we had to wait until it went away."



"But wait. Why did your mother act like that?"

His eyebrows went down. "Because..." He looked around as if trying to find a distraction. "Don't you want to play a game instead?"

"Why won't you tell me? I promised I wouldn't tell what you said to anyone."

He squinted at me. "Are you a liar?"

"No! I crossed my heart. If I tell anyone I'll die, remember?"

"She..." Cayden looked at the rug under his feet. "She's sick. She has a disease in her head. It makes her kind of crazy. Sometimes she gets angry and sometimes she just gets sad and lies in bed and doesn't do anything all day."



"She should go to the doctor. He'll help her." Our family doctor, Dr. Hugh, had recently given me some medicine to cure my ear infection, and I had complete confidence in him.

"The doctors already tried, but they couldn't help that much. They gave her some pills, but they only work sometimes. One of the pills she takes when she's sad can also make her pass out. That's what happened the night Trisha drowned."

"Okay, tell me about that now."

"We were out fishing in the pond across the street."

"Wait, wait. You were out fishing at night?"

"Well, my mom was. She'd taken one of the pills so she wouldn't be sad anymore, and she told us we were going to do a fun thing. We thought she'd take us to the movies or something. Instead she got out Trisha's fishing pole and went to the pond. Trisha and I took some toys and played beside the water."



"That's weird."

"I guess. We're used to it. I mean I am, and Trisha was."

"So then what happened?"

"Then mom just passed out all of a sudden. Her pole fell into the pond and she fell on the ground."



"Trisha and I ran home to get some salt that made her wake up."

"Why didn't you come to my house? I would've helped you."

"We didn't need help." He glowered. I was getting used to seeing that expression on his face. "We always took care of mom by ourselves. Trisha said that if other people found out about our mom they'd take her away and put us with another family."

"Well, I never would've done that!" I said, shocked.

"Maybe you wouldn't, but your parents would. That's what Trisha said."

"My parents wouldn't have done that either! They would've helped you."

He gave me a look that clearly indicated he didn't believe me, but he didn't say anything and continued. "Trisha and I ran back to the house to get the salts. Then she remembered her fishing pole. 'It's going to be at the bottom of the pond by now! I've got to get it out!' she said. I told her I would get the salts. She ran back out."



"And when I went back out I couldn't find her. I woke my mom up and when I told her Trisha was missing she went crazy and started screaming. Your father came out of your house and came to see what was the matter."

"My father was there?" That I couldn't imagine. "But... he never told me!"

Cayden ignored me, probably sick of my interruptions. "We looked everywhere. We didn't think to look in the pond, because Trisha was a great swimmer. Mom and I went to bed thinking she'd show up the next morning. The police found her when she floated up to the surface."

"But... why did she drown?"

"I don't know. She probably went under the water to get the fishing pole and got stuck or hit her head or something. Sometimes I imagine that she was calling us from the bottom of the pond and we didn't hear her and that's why she's dead."

"Why didn't you look in the pond?" I asked. The story was upsetting me more than I thought it would. "You would've found her and she wouldn't be dead!"

"We didn't think she'd be in the pond."

"That doesn't make sense!" I punched the carpet in frustration as tears started to stream down my cheeks. How could a girl die because of that? Her death was so trivial, so strange and senseless, that it completely upset my view of the world.

"Don't cry," said Cayden, bewildered at my outburst. "She wasn't your sister. You didn't even know her."

"She couldn't have died like that! You're a liar!" I threw myself on the floor and pounded it with my fists while I wet it with my tears. "You're a liar!" I screamed.

"You wanted me to tell you the story!" he said, angry now. "I told you the story!"

I buried my face in my arms and sobbed. "It doesn't make sense!"

"When are you going to stop crying?"

My sobs died down little by little as I ran out of energy to produce them. Then I heard my mother calling me from somewhere outside. I remembered I hadn't had supper.

"That's my mom," I said, hiccuping.

"Why don't you leave, then?"

I picked myself up, directing him an angry look, and ran out past his crazy mother and across the yard to my house. My parents were sitting down to supper.



"Hi," I said dejectedly.

"Hello, honey," said my mother. "Where were you? We've been looking for you."

"I was at Cayden's house." I sat down to my bowl of macaroni and cheese. Not even such a delicious offering could make me happy.

"Who's Cayden?" asked my father.

I opened my eyes wide in shock and was about to tell him "The boy whose sister died! He told me you went looking for her with him and you never told me!" Then I remembered my promise. "He's our neighbor."

"Aliyah," said my father sternly. "I don't like you socializing with that kind of person. He's a bad influence. He's going to turn out bad, that one."

"What's an influence?" I asked.

"Jim, be easy on him," said my mother, putting a hand on his arm. "Remember what happened last month? It's no wonder the boy's a little turned around."

"What happened last month?"

My parents exchanged a look. "Just some bad things, honey. Don't worry about it. I think your father's right, though. The Moreys live very differently from us."

"Their house is ugly. The wallpaper was ugly, and all of their furniture was different. And he made me cry," I added after deciding that telling them that wouldn't break my promise.

"Boys are different from girls. At your age it's normal that you don't get along. Boys play differently. It's better to have girlfriends when you're little, because then you can play all the things that you like to play and you won't make each other cry." She nodded at my father.

"Good thinking," he whispered. He probably didn't mean for me to hear, but I've got a good ear.

"Now eat your macaroni," said my mom. "There's dessert afterward if you finish it all up."

But I couldn't take another bite. I'd already filled up on ice cream at Cayden's.



The next day I didn't have school. My parents worked, though, and I was left with the nanny. The one we had back then didn't get along too well with me, and I always found ways to get away from her. That day I left her cleaning the bathroom and ran outside to play on our playground.

I was considering catapulting from the swing when it reached the highest point in its arc when Cayden approached me. He seemed rather dejected, which pleased me, because it indicated he'd repented from making me cry the day before.



"Can I play heralds with you?" he asked.

"You have to prove yourself worthy first," I said imperiously. I was delighted at having a new recruit. None of my girlfriends cared much for galavanting around outside in search of invisible obstacles.

"How do I do that?"

"Push me."

He went around behind me. I kicked off and started swinging again. He gave me a tiny little push that barely added any force to the swing.

"Push harder!" I ordered.

"I don't want to make you fall."

I snorted. "I'm not going to fall, silly! Just push me!"

He gave me a hard shove that sent me rushing up in the air. I hooted in delight.



After Cayden had proven his worth by pushing me for a while, I explained the rules of the game to him. "Our king's given us a message that we have to deliver. There are going to be bandits, hanging bridges, ogres, and enemy kings on the way who don't want us to get there."

"Why do we do what the king says?" asked Cayden.

"Because he's the king! You have to obey the king."

"But why?"

I couldn't come up with an answer for that. It was just what was in the books. So I changed the subjects. "By the way, my name is uh-LEE-uh, not 'Alaya.'"

"Aliyah," he said carefully.

"No. You're still saying it wrong. The 'lee' is louder."

"Aliyah."

I grinned. "That's better. Come on! The king has told us that we must take a scroll to his son the prince, who lives on the other side of that hill."

"Where's the scroll?" asked Cayden.

"We imagine it. Don't you imagine things?"

"How do you do that?"

"Just pretend it's here." I mimicked pulling something out of my pocket. I had no idea what a scroll looked like, so I treated the imaginary object like some kind of sphere. "See? I've got it in my hands now."

He nodded. "Okay. What's the king's name?"

I thought a moment. I usually just called him "the king." "King Macaroni," I said.

"That's a funny name."

I put a finger over his lips and made a hushing sound. "Don't say that! The king gets very angry if you make fun of his name."

"Oh. What about the prince? What's his name?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You were making me tell you all the details yesterday. I just want to know."

"Okay, he's Prince... Pudding."

"We can't make fun of his name either, can we?"

"Absolutely not! The king's armies will come after us and hang us!"

"What's that?"

"It's..." I wasn't sure. I'd just read it. "It's when they tie one end of a rope around your ankle and the other around a tree branch that's really high and you just hang there until they decide to get you down."

"Oh. Okay. So what do we do?"

"First we have to get the lay of the land. Come on, let's go up to the watch post!"



We climbed up and looked around. I pointed out imaginary things that would get in our way. He agreed with everything I said and didn't come up with anything of his own. I didn't mind, because I liked to be in charge of the imaginary world.



And off we went, through the forest and over the hills, Cayden following my lead, me directing him as to how we would get past the various obstacles. He would get angry sometimes, and tell me something didn't make sense, but I would come up with explanations to placate him, and he would go back to being a loyal follower.

That was the first of many days that we spent together. My parents didn't like it when I told them I spent all my time with "that Morey boy," but they tolerated it. In the end they usually relented and gave me what I wanted. And I wanted Cayden. I couldn't play with anyone else anymore. Only Cayden subscribed to my insane adventures, only Cayden wanted to fight invisible goblins and climb up trees and pretend they were huge monsters.

And so Cayden and I became inseparable. And that's where the trouble began.
I hope you enjoyed the second chapter! Thank you for reading and being patient. I'll post a new one tomorrow.

[MoMoll]

Well done! You and your cliff hangets! Guess I'll just have to wait!

[alex51299]

This is a great story! Can't wait for the rest. 

[ApplesApplesApples]

Well done! You and your cliff hangets! Guess I'll just have to wait!

I just can't help myself! Sorry. I promise to get the next one up tomorrow around noon. That's when I wake up. Hehe.

[MoonsAreBlue]

This is amazing! I can't believe what a wonderful story teller you are. I'm so jealous. I will definitely be following this story. I'm so intrigued, and I can't wait to see what you tell us next!