[Found inside an unopened letter that had been thrown in the trash]:
August 16th, 1998
Dear Lilli Stella,
This picture was taken the morning after our eighteenth birthday. I don’t know if you remember all that well since you were high and drunk out of your mind the night before, so I’ll tell you what happened.
Allison picked us up that afternoon and brought us to her parents’ lake house so we could “party like adults.” Katie, Maria, Analise, Justine, and Sandra were all already waiting there. They all had alcohol stolen from their parents’, and then you showed them the booze you’d taken from home and the weed you’d gotten from one of your connections. Everyone except me was excited but decided to hold off until night. We all hung out for a while, got some pizza and cake, then you guys deemed me the designated driver in case of emergency and got high. You babbled about wanting to do something drastic to piss off mom and dad, so Allison took out some black hair dye and a pair of scissors. You cut all your hair off and dyed it black right there. After that, Katie turned on some rock music that you guys seemed to love so much (I loved it too, secretly) and started drinking. Some twenty-something college frat guys from a house a little whiles down the beach showed up soon after and Sandra excitedly let them in (she was always a slut). Everyone danced and laughed and got piss drunk, a few disappeared with the different guys, you disappeared with Justine at some point (that was the night of her life. She had always had a crush on you). Then we had a fire outside, drank some more, and everyone passed out on the beach. I slept in a hammock. Next morning I was driving everyone home with their raging hangovers when Allison’s car broke down. Maria was still pretty drunk and stuck a random flower from a crack in the pavement in your hair. I snapped the picture with Analise’s polaroid. It was my worst birthday party, but you seemed to have fun. You ran away that evening.
Now it’s our twenty-fifth birthday, at least when I’m writing this. You haven’t written to me since we turned twenty-one. I know you still live at the same place. Are you still friends with that gay guy, Jo, or something? What about that band you really liked, do they still play? Do you still hack for fun? Are you in a relationship with anyone? I’m married now, you know. I sent you an invitation. I wish you had come to the wedding. Oh, and Bennett graduated college. You should’ve thrown him one of your parties.
I miss you, Stella. Whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry. Please write back.
Love,
Penny