Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Corner
A woman stood up from a chair in the corner.
She was older. So was I. Her hair was cut short now, and a thin, pale scar ran along the left side of her jaw.
But she was twisting a plain silver ring around and around her right index finger — the same nervous circle Vivian used to make with the friendship bracelets we wore as kids.
"Hi," she said.
"Don't just say hi."
The little smile fell off her face.
"Okay."
I couldn't make my feet carry me any closer.
"What did we call the dent in my bedroom wall?"
Her eyes filled instantly.
"The moon."
"Who knocked over Mom's vase during the ice storm?"
"I did. You told Dad it was you so he wouldn't ground me before Tessa's birthday party."
My throat closed.
She took a step toward me. I stepped back the same distance.
"It's really you."
"You don't have to believe all of it right now," she said.
"You don't get to tell me what I have to do."
She went still.
"You're right."
Same eyes. Same faint crease between her brows when she was scared.
"How are you alive?"
"Can we get out of here first?"
"No."
She dropped her voice. "I survived the crash."
"We buried you."
"You buried an empty box, Nora."
"Mom still leaves flowers at your headstone."
Vivian shut her eyes.
"Dad wouldn't drive Route 9 for five years."
"I know."
Something in my stomach dropped.
"How do you know that?"
May you like
She opened her eyes, and the look on her face changed — went guarded, almost guilty.
That was the moment I understood that finding my sister alive might not be the worst thing waiting for me that day.
