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When 17-year-old Arbor Hayes' best friend turns up alive after a mysterious six-month disappearance, she must piece together the fragments of her story to make sense of what happened. But as clues e...
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As soon as the alarm goes off, my eyes spring open with a start, a sensation like static electricity buzzing through my limbs.
Just beyond the curtains, a vibrant orange hue creeps across the horizon, the teasing hint of sunrise hitting me at an angle different than what I'm used to. I rub the sleep from my eyes and struggle to orient myself.
It's early morning, and I'm in Mom's bed. I can't believe I finally fell asleep. The last time I looked at my phone, the clock read 4:12. Mom always gets up at 6:00. If I'm lucky, I slept for maybe an hour and a half. But I'll take it. A little rest is better than no rest at all, and I have a busy day ahead of me.
Mom reaches for her phone and silences the wail of beeps. Once it's quiet, she lets out a low groan and falls back into the pillow with a thud, the fluff and silky fabric concealing her face.
She didn't sleep much either. We both took turns repositioning ourselves throughout the night, a shift from one person triggering a roll from the other, all the while pretending like we weren't wide awake. Other than the continuous restlessness, the hours stretched by without incident. No sign of Emma breaking into the house. No sign of her looming over the bed.
I reach for my cell to check the notifications but there's still no call or text message from Jordan.
A sudden thickness engulfs me.
Something must be wrong, or she would have contacted me by now. I take a breath but my lungs feel depleted no matter how much air I suck in.
I close my eyes, try counting to ease my nerves, but the numbers jumble into nonsense behind my lids.
My imagination is getting the best of me. Images spin through my head of Emma sneaking into her hospital room and suffocating her with a pillow, or pushing a deadly substance through the line in her vein. And the more I dwell, the more ominous scenarios invade my brain.
"Honey?" Mom rolls onto her elbow, blocking out the haze filtering in through her window. "You're breathing funny. Are you feeling alright?"
The sting of bile crawls up the back of my throat. I swallow it down and try not to gag. "I'm fine," I lie, setting my phone on the table. "How did you sleep?"
"Great," she lies back. "And you?"
"Like a baby."
We stare at each other, two silhouettes in the murky darkness, refusing to turn away. Finally, her shoulders sink and she lets out a sigh of resignation. "I need to shower. I have a lot to get done before your appointment this afternoon."
