For the next few weeks, we hardly saw the girls at all. Lev Colany never called Caliste like he had promised, and Blythe never spoke to Elias again.
The girls' only contact with the outside world was through the catalogs they ordered, and soon the Auclair mailbox overflowed with pictures of high-end fashions and brochures for exotic vacations. Unable to go anywhere, the girls traveled in their imagination, visiting gold-tipped Siamese temples or walking past old men with leaf brooms tidying moss-carpeted paths in Japan.
We ordered the same catalogs, flipping through the pages. In our minds, we hiked through dusty passes with the girls, stopping every now and then to help them with their backpacks, placing our hands on their warm, moist shoulders, and gazing off into papaya sunsets.
We drank tea with them in a water pavilion. We did whatever we wanted, and in these dreams, Esther hadn't died—she was a bride in Calcutta.
The only way we could feel close to the girls was through these impossible excursions, which scarred us forever, making us happier with dreams than with our actual lives. We collected everything we could of theirs. The Auclair girls wouldn't leave our minds, but they were slipping away. The colors of their eyes were fading, along with the exact locations of their moles and dimples. From five, they had become four, and they were all—both the living and the dead—becoming shadows. We would have lost them completely if the girls hadn't contacted us.
"Okay, one long," Chase said, his eye fixed on the telescope, with Zyian taking notes beside him. The girls were signaling them through their bedroom lights. "Two short. One long."
Tim sat next to Zyian, glancing over his shoulder at the notepad. Parkie and Lev flanked them, their faces tense with anticipation.
"Got that?" Chase asked. "That's it."
Zyian handed the notepad to Tim for deciphering. Zyian was usually better with math and science, while Tim had a knack for history and reading. "Help...send...bo...bo..."
Zyian and Tim exchanged confused looks.
"Bobo?" Parkie turned to them, baffled. "Bobo," Tim repeated with uncertainty.
Later that day, Zyian got a letter. His dad handed it to him without much care for what it said. Zyian unfolded it and read:
Dear whoever, tell your brother I'm over him. He's a creep. You know who.
Zyian stared at the words, his chest tightening.
He met up with Chase and Tim, who also had a letter in hand, asking for help. They gathered in secret, trying to devise a way to reach the Auclair sisters. Tom Fayheim suggested flying a kite with a message near their house, but the logistics were too complicated. After days of brainstorming, the solution finally came to them: call them on the telephone.
Zyian, who was the most trusted by the Auclairs—especially by Mr. Auclair—was the one to hold the phone. If anyone could get through with an excuse, it was him.
"Hello?" One of the sisters answered, her voice soft and familiar.
Zyian mouthed, "Go!" to the boys. Parkie immediately hit the record player. Todd Rundgren's "Hello, It's Me" floated into the air, the melody swelling as the boys watched Zyian, holding their breath, hoping this would work.
"Call us back at 727-0487," Zyian blurted out before nervously hanging up.
Later, Zyian, armed with a record from a crate, played it, hoping one of the sisters would recognize the melody. Across the street, he noticed Blythe's lips curve into a faint smile. The opening notes were unmistakable—Led Zeppelin's "The Rain Song," a melody that had a special place in her heart.
