One Was Lost(75)

“Hurt you.” The words come out with tears.

“Saved me,” he corrects softly.

His face is the worst. There’s a puncture in his left brow, a row of scratches down his jaw and neck. I pull him to the sink and rinse quickly because I can’t put him through more pain.

The D and the OUS are still easy to read, but the rest is gone—just a smear of gray, spelling something that isn’t him.

“What’s with the words?” Jude asks after he rinses. “Was it a random part of her crazy?”

“Not random,” I say. “The girl who died out there before was Ms. Brighton’s stepsister. Her name was Hannah. She looked like me.”

I close my eyes and see the brightness of Hannah’s smile, frozen on the blood-stained memorial program. When I open them, they are waiting. “I guess it was an accident, but Ms. Brighton couldn’t accept that. She needed someone to blame, so she investigated the kids who were with Hannah. She stalked them really.”

“So we’re supposed to be the reincarnation of those kids?” Jude asks.

I sigh. “I guess so.”

“You don’t look like a Hannah,” Emily muses.

I lift my chin. “No, I look like a Sera.”

“I still don’t get the words,” Lucas says.

“We’re never going to know for sure,” Jude says. “That woman was a full-fledged lunatic.”

“I think she was sad. She was looking for motive,” I say. “Some reason or trait that might make one of you guilty. She wanted words to explain, words that would give her someone to blame.”

“Labels,” Emily says.

“Tidy little boxes to tuck us into,” Jude says.

“You and your damn boxes.” Lucas’s words hold no bite. The boys exchange a look that isn’t the same as before. We’re still us. At least, some part of us anyway.

“She was wrong.” I have to say it because I need to make sure they hear it. “She didn’t know you at all. She didn’t know any of us.”

There’s nothing left to say, so we curl onto the stiff waiting room couches and flip through the news. They’ve got everything mixed-up already.

“Two points for every time they call me Judah,” Jude says.

Lucas chuckles. “Five for every time they mention my violent past.”

“At least they don’t have our faces on the screen,” Emily says, but they flash Hannah’s face up, and we all take a breath.

I catalogue her features one by one. They do not add up to me.

In the end, we change the channel to old cartoons. Emily finds a bag of microwave popcorn, and Jude treats us all to soda. Lucas is leaned against my chest—we propped him up with every pillow we found in the closet—and his legs are everywhere, but his free arm is resting on my leg, his fingers pressed to my bare knee where my hospital gown has ridden up.

Jude is telling Emily to listen to the orchestra rise behind the action scene. I hear the soft rumble of her reply, feel Lucas’s deep breath against me. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror beside the window. The world rights itself, all the tilted things leveling. Here—far from the trees and the terror and the blood—there are no ghosts waiting in my reflection. Not my mother or Hannah. The only one looking back is me.





Acknowledgments


Probably the greatest blessing of being a writer is all the amazing people I meet along the way. I find myself encouraged, inspired, and kept on track in so many different ways by just as many people.

As always, my thanks to God for blessing me with joy throughout every step of One Was Lost. This book was a breath of fresh air, scares and all, and I am so grateful to have written it.

Thanks to Cori Deyoe with Three Seas Literary, who helped me tremendously in shining my initial draft and who is wonderful, wise, and kind in countless ways. Words can’t express!

Thanks to my unbeatable team at Sourcebooks Fire: Todd, Amelia, Stephanie, Elizabeth, Stephanie, and my super sparkly unicorn, Alex. A special thanks to Annette for getting me to the finish line with some seriously brilliant insight! And most of all, thank you, Aubrey. Your vision for this book made it a joy to revise, and your wisdom made it the project I’m proudest of to date. Thank you so much!

To my critique partner and dear friend, Romily Bernard, who sees all the ugly parts I hide from everyone else and still picks up the phone when I call. Thank you doesn’t cut it, but still…

A special thanks goes to Dr. Mark Gittins (Boots!) for the injury advice, to Justin Hall (thank you!) for the help with all the quad stuff, to Liz and Susan and Margs for theater advice, and to my cousin, Angela, for talking me through a scary choice, and to Leigh Anne for constant cheer.

I’m blessed with friendships with so many talented writers who make my life brighter. To Julia Devillers, Margaret Peterson Haddix, Erin McCahan, Lisa Klein, Jody Casella, Edith Patou, Kristen Orlando, Pintip Dunn, Meg Kassel, Stephanie Winklehake, Sheri Adkins, Robin Gianna, and others I’m missing. Thanks for pushing me on and making me laugh.

There are several librarians, readers, bloggers, and teachers who have championed me in my writing journey. Amanda, Donna, Erin, Teddi, Sara, Stephanie, Cath, Pam V., and many more. Thank you with all my heart! You mean the world to me!

And, of course, my biggest thanks are always saved for my wonderful husband and our three beautiful children. They are my light in every dark place. All of this, every word, is only possible because of the four of you. I love you.