Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I wouldn’t be able to do it.
Somehow, some way, Ryan had become necessary to me. He shielded me, protected me. My head was above water with him. Without him, I would sink.
I would drown alone.
I heard the door opening and wasn’t surprised when he sat next to me. His arm brushed against mine.
“You sleeping here tonight?” he asked.
Did I have any other choice?
Water pressed down on me. I felt the air slipping from my lungs. I almost felt myself thrashing, trying to get to the surface.
“I’ll hide in your closet till your mom goes to bed.”
His grin turned rakish, and mine matched.
He nodded. “Deal.”
COUNSELING SESSION THREE
“You didn’t leave during our last session. I think you’re making great strides, and thank you again for coming back. I know you’ve been missing the other appointments, but I feel I need to remind you that the school and your parents both agreed these sessions are a necessity for you. It’s been a few months since your sister died. I was hoping today you could talk to me about her?”
A heavy silence. “No.”
She sighed. “I don’t know your sister. I can’t comprehend what it’s like to lose a twin or to be the one who finds her. Please, Mackenzie. I really would like to know more about your sister. Tell me about her.”
Another heavy silence. “Her name was Willow, and she left me.”
One month later
We were at a dance.
Black, silver, and pink balloons hung from the walls and pooled all over the floor. There was a pink banner at the back of the gymnasium—we were at our old school.
A sad song was playing, and our friends were dancing, their arms wrapped around each other. It was Homecoming.
Willow stood on the stage, her Junior Queen crown on her head and her pink dress shimmering. She looked like part of the it, as if they’d specifically designed the theme around what she was wearing.
If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve believed that wholeheartedly.
Willow and I both had light brown hair and sometimes golden blonde hair. It ranged in shades—it all depended on the season or whether Willow had been to the hair stylist lately. She’d spent more time in the sun over the summer, and her hair was almost a normal blonde. It hung in curls down past her shoulders, extensions adding another six inches, and it looked good. She was like some sort of Greek goddess, owning the attention of everyone around her.
No, it was the way she wore it, the way she stood—as if she owned the entire gym. That was what drew everyone’s eyes.
Only a few might’ve realized it, but we were all living in Willow’s world.
She turned to look at me, her eyes haunted. “Don’t ask me.”
I stepped up next to her and looked down; I was wearing the same dress. I hated pink. I felt the crown on my head. I hated crowns. And I looked over my shoulder—my hair had grown and was a lighter shade than normal.
I was her.
I looked over the gym again. We were no longer at our old school. I didn’t recognize this one. It was new to me, like the question burning in my throat.
“Don’t. Please.” She began to whimper.
I looked at her. I mirrored her body posture—chin raised, shoulders back.
“Why did you do it?” I asked.
Black tears rolled down her face, her makeup smudging. “I can’t answer that.”
I tried a different question, the one I almost hated her for. “Why did you leave me?”
I bolted upright in bed screaming.
A hand clamped over my mouth and pulled me back down. Arms wrapped around me, and Ryan pushed me into the bed. He braced himself over me, and I could barely make out his eyes in the dark.
“Ssshh!” he whispered.
Fuck.
Reality flooded back. I was in Ryan’s room, Ryan’s bed, and this was my fourth week of sneaking over.
A door flew open down the hallway.
“Shit!” Ryan jumped over me, running to his door.
Feet pounded down the hallway.
“What are you doing?”
“Hide!” he whispered. Then he was out the door and running to meet his parents.
“Ryan!” his dad bellowed. “That sounded like your room.”
“It was Peach!” Ryan yelled back.
“It was Peach?” Their mom’s voice hitched up in worry. “That didn’t sound like one of her screams.”
Three sets of feet ran down the hallway and then another door opened and a light went on.
He’d said to hide, but I had to be quiet. Stealth. They couldn’t find me or this was over. Panic began clogging my throat. I pushed past it and started to slide from the bed.
“Peach? Honey?”
“Uh . . .what?” Peach’s voice was groggy.
“You screamed,” Ryan said.
“I did?”
“Honey, did you have a nightmare?”
“Uh . . . maybe? I must’ve.”
“Oh, honey.”
Their mother turned nurturing, and someone’s footsteps crossed the floor as another two sounded closer in the hallway, as if they were leaving the room.