Reflecting on the foundations of their lifelong friendship, Laura’s earliest memories in Platte are inextricably bound to that initial classroom encounter. Having moved to the county when she was just three years old, Laura retained no recollection of the transition itself. Instead, her personal history in Platte began with the shared anxiety of the first day of school. Both Laura and Carrie arrived holding identical Clifford lunch boxes, and both dissolved into tears when their mothers departed. Miss Clearman, observing the only two crying children—one blond-headed, one brown-headed—intervened by bringing them under her wing. Suggesting that they should be friends, the teacher inadvertently set the course for their upbringing.
The immediate connection bridged worlds that typically remained entirely separate. Carrie lived fifteen miles outside of town on an expansive family farm. As an adult, Laura would recognize that Carrie’s ability to effortlessly cross the social divide between rural and urban students came down to a simple factor: wealth. Carrie’s family possessed the resources that allowed her to travel to Chicago every summer to purchase school clothes, distinguishing her from other children of the agricultural community. Her daily routine began before dawn, boarding the school bus at 6:00 a.m. to navigate the dark, gravel roads of Hamilton County for nearly two hours before classes commenced. Laura, by contrast, enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in until 7:30 a.m., often catching a ride to school with her father as he headed downtown for his municipal duties.
As an only child growing up in a home characterized by equal parts silence and books, Laura welcomed the steadfast companionship. That first morning, amid tears that made her eyes shine rather than redden, Carrie had asked a simple question that would define Laura’s early life: "You wanna sit by me?" Laura nodded, sealing an alliance that resulted in conjoined desks at the front of the classroom and shared lunches of Nature Valley crunchy peanut butter granola bars beneath the cottonwood trees on the elementary school playground.
For much of her youth, Laura willingly assumed the role of the follower. Being second-in-command offered a comfortable refuge from the pressures of leadership. Rather than forging her own path as Laura Runnell, she found security in being identified as Carrie Pierce’s best friend. When Carrie purchased rainbow suspenders in the third grade, Laura begged her mother for a matching pair. When Carrie’s parents restricted her from seeing The Wiz because of its predominantly Black cast, Laura quietly abandoned dancing to its soundtrack in her bedroom. She mirrored Carrie’s hairstyles, utilizing an abundance of Aquanet to achieve the desired look, and smiled proudly whenever she entered the school cafeteria to find that Carrie had saved her the adjacent seat, even as Laura wore knock-off brand sweaters instead of the costly Lacoste and Ralph Lauren polos worn by her friend.
That dynamic of following, however, ultimately drew Laura into darker territory years later, culminating in a troubling incident inside an old wooden barn on the Pierce property involving a new student named Kelly Spranger.
The Pierce family property was a familiar landmark in the region, dotted with tall metal storage bins and silos painted a distinct green—the color of money, as Mr. Pierce would explain to anyone curious about their branding. Near the family house sat the original wooden barn, constructed generations prior by family members hauling planks from Omaha after the local hardwood around Platte had been depleted. Long abandoned for agricultural use by Mr. Pierce and his brothers, the aging structure was primarily utilized for storing garden tools, old wringer tubs, and rusted equipment. Though Carrie had previously avoided the barn, citing family ghost stories regarding a tragic suicide from the rafters years earlier, she nonetheless chose its second-floor loft as the site for an initiation ritual for their junior high social group, the Jackrabbits.
The target of the initiation was Kelly Spranger, a sixth-grader who had recently moved to town and whose family background stood in stark contrast to the established social hierarchy of Platte. Laura’s mother had frequently spoken of Kelly with sympathetic concern after the girl arrived months into the school year, noting the difficulty of such a transition. Yet, to Laura, Kelly had initially appeared entirely unremarkable—mousy, carrying her books across her chest like a shield without a backpack in sight, and dressing in bulky sweaters and corduroy pants that lacked any sense of coastal fashion or local trend. When teachers asked for a volunteer to show the new student around, Laura had deliberately kept her eyes fixed on her TrapperKeeper, feeling an immense wave of relief when another student stepped forward.
Despite the social distance between them, Kelly found herself sealed inside a cardboard box, hauled up the narrow stairs of the Pierce barn by Carrie, Laura, and another girl named Julia. As they navigated the climb, Kelly’s muffled pleas echoed from within the box. "Let me out! This isn’t funny," she cried, her movements inside causing the box to slip and slide on the stairs.
"Stop moving, Kelly," Carrie commanded when they paused to right the container. "We have to focus."
Upon reaching the dusty loft—a space sparsely furnished with a few broken ladderback chairs, metal tubs, and Christmas decoration boxes surrounding a heavily gouged wooden table—the reality of the dare became clear. Resting the box upon the table, Carrie delivered the ultimatum to the terrified girl trapped inside.
"You know the rules, Kelly," Carrie said, tapping the top of the box. "If you want into the Jackrabbits, you have to take the dare."
"Come on guys," Kelly begged, her voice frantic. "I’m scared. Let me out!"
"We’re pushing you off the loft," Carrie replied flatly.
"If you want in," Carrie added during a pause in Kelly’s screaming, "then you go off. In for off. That’s the rule."
"No!" Kelly cried out. "I want out. Not in. I want out."
As Carrie motioned for Laura and Julia to join her at the table to execute the push, Laura hesitated. Backing away toward the cool shadows beneath the low rafters, she recognized the gravity of the situation. While she was accustomed to following Carrie’s lead blindly—matching her clothes, adopting her preferences, and anchoring her social identity to her friend’s status—the unfolding scene in the old barn forced a quiet confrontation with the boundaries of her obedience.
As the situation balanced on the edge of escalation, the long shadow of Platte’s social codes, deeply ingrained since a kindergarten classroom years prior, continued to frame the complex loyalties defining Laura’s youth.
