The Comeback(97)

I’ve already turned around, my hand on the screen door.

“Thanks, Blake,” I say, looking one more time at the placards propped against the window and Blake’s drab clothes. “How much longer have you got before you go to college?”

“Two hundred forty-three days, seventeen hours and”—Blake checks her watch—“twenty minutes.”



* * *



? ? ?

The rain tumbles down as I leave Blake’s house, making up for months of baking sunshine. The sky is a thick blanket of charcoal gray, and I am already soaked by the time I get back into Laurel’s car.

It’s the first rainy day in months, and we are all sliding across oil-slicked lanes that shimmer like rainbows in the car headlights, but I drive as fast as I can. I wish I could communicate to the other drivers that I’m not just another person on the road racing to a spin class or a lunch meeting in Santa Monica, but I know it doesn’t work like that. Everything feels like it’s the end of the world until you’re actually faced with the end of the world.

I pull up outside my house at Coyote Sumac, the wheels of the car skidding across the sludgy dust. I swing myself over to the porch on one crutch, holding my other hand above my head so that I can see through the pounding rain. When I reach the top of the steps I freeze, horror spreading through me.

The front door is wide open.

I drop my crutch and run into the house, ignoring the bolt of pain in my leg. An empty box of Lucky Charms has been knocked over onto the kitchen table, surrounded by garish, brightly colored marshmallow shapes and cereal loops. My clothes are everywhere, covering the floor and the kitchen counters, my black Valentino dress hanging from a light fixture over the sofa. The TV is on and showing an episode of Friends at full volume. Flies buzz around an open bottle of Coke, and a slice of half-eaten pizza rests on the back of a DVD case on the floor.

“Esme?” I shout, running to the bedroom. It’s empty. I push open the bathroom door, and a turquoise wash bag with a cartoon of a cat on it saying You’re PAWfect is open on the floor. I try not to think about my sister’s solemn face, the way she takes everything so literally, her infuriating honesty, and the weird noises she makes when she’s embarrassed, or frustrated.

I limp out onto the porch, scanning for any signs of when she was last here. When I get down onto the beach, I stop in my tracks and the world flickers around me for a moment. My rose gold slip dress and Dylan’s Ohio State sweatshirt are in a wet heap on the sand in front of the house, the waves already licking them. When I get closer I can see Esme’s phone resting on top, raindrops skimming off her glittery Union Jack case. I run toward the ocean, fear like I’ve never known it propelling me through my pain.

My sister is bobbing in the ocean, about twenty yards out, her hair fanning around her. I fall onto the wet sand, the word no caught at the back of my throat as fear tears through me. The feeling is primitive, raw, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m up again and running into the icy water as thick raindrops continue falling from the sky. Seaweed snakes around my ankle, and I trip over a large rock embedded in the sand, landing on my bad knee as the waves crash over me. I propel myself forward with my arms until I’m swimming, the wound above my eye stinging from the salt as the water whips my face. I push through the fiery pain until I’m slipping underneath the waves, swimming like a mermaid through the darkness. I must be close. I break through the surface again and look around. I can see Esme’s black hair drifting in the water around her. She’s so close. I reach out and grab my sister by the shoulder, pulling her toward me. She gasps for air as I wrap my arms around her.

Esme shouts something over the sound of the rain hitting the water, and I think she’s fighting me off, splashing and writhing under my grip.

“Come with me,” I say, tears streaming down my face. I wrap my arms around her again.

“What are you doing?” she shouts in between coughs, but I won’t let go and we both sink beneath the waves again. I kick hard, my arm gripping Esme around the waist, and I only let go of her when I feel the sand beneath my feet. We break through the surface at the same time, and Esme spits out salt water while I rub my eyes.

“We’re okay,” I say, breathing heavily as Esme shakes her head, staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“You’re psychotic,” she says, but she lets me throw my arms around her neck.

“I’m so sorry. I should have told you. It was a really bad plan,” I say, half sobbing and half laughing with relief.

My sister lets me hold her for a minute, and then we both sink onto the sand as the rain tumbles down over us.





CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX





Esme doesn’t speak to me for most of the journey home, closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep almost as soon as we get inside my car. It’s just as well, as the adrenaline-fueled fight through the waves has left me drained, and I don’t yet know how to form the words I need to say to her.

We’re on the freeway when my sister opens her eyes again.

“Where are we going?” she asks quietly, because the gunmetal sky and the rainwater rivers flowing next to the freeway have rendered Southern California unfamiliar, turning it into anywhere else on the planet.

“Home. I’m taking you home, of course,” I say, and maybe because she knows I don’t have one, she doesn’t argue with me.