Somewhere off in the distance, somewhere impossibly far away, I heard a shout. I heard Darcy cry out.
My hands reached up to cover my mouth. There was no way to know where the shout had come from. No way to tell which direction I was even facing. I stood there and listened, hoping for another shout, another sign, anything. But all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the incessant hissing of the mist.
Darcy was gone. And Nell had her.
Over the years, he had learned that sisters were not the same. It didn’t matter how alike they looked, how close in age they were, that they’d grown up in the same household under the same rules. In his experience there was almost nothing about them that was similar. Not their smell, not their taste, not their spirit. Often, one sister was far more successful, in colloquial terms, than the other. Prettier, more outgoing, more popular. Some theorized that this was a simple fluke of nature, but not him. He believed that it was all because of psychological warfare.
The sisters might not have even known this war was being waged, but it always was, and it was often the second- or third-born who suffered. She slipped out of the womb fresh and full of hope and purpose, but was quickly taught that she was not special, she would never be the one-and-only, she would never be as good or as loved as the first. And so, she receded. She curled in on herself. She found a way to survive, but not to shine.
Rory Miller deserved to have a chance to shine, but alas, she was the second-born. Perhaps she would thank him when she saw what he’d done for her. Thank him for giving her the opportunity she never had, to be the one, the only, the star.
Of course, she would only have one, precious, fleeting moment to take her rightful place in her family, before he slaughtered her, too.
Someone slammed into my side, and I staggered to the left, my hand gripping the cold metal garbage can to keep me from going down.
“Sorry. Didn’t see you,” a guy’s voice said.
The crowd was moving around me, headed back toward town in the disorienting fog. Someone stepped on my foot. A hand grazed my hip. Another person walked right into the garbage can, nearly knocking it over. I clung to Darcy’s sweater and turned around and around, trying to find someone I recognized, desperate to do something.
A hand came down on my shoulder, and I screamed.
“Rory! It’s just me!” Tristan held both my arms. He took one look in my eyes and paled. “What’s wrong?”
“My sister,” I said. “I can’t find my sister.”
Joaquin and Krista materialized out of the mist, standing just behind Tristan. Joaquin was wearing a red-and-white striped polo shirt with the collar flipped up, and the whole preppy-superior look made me want to smack him.
“What?” Joaquin said, a shadow crossing his face.
“She went looking for you after you stood her up!” I snapped, venom spewing from my tongue. “And now he’s—”
I stopped, biting down on my tongue. I couldn’t tell them about Steven Nell. I wasn’t allowed.
“And now she’s just disappeared!” I finished.
“Disappeared?” Krista asked, alarmed.
“And don’t tell me, ‘She’s Darcy, she’s fine!’” I shouted at Joaquin sarcastically, mimicking his voice. “And don’t you dare tell me people come and go around here all the time!” I added, whirling on Tristan. “This is my sister we’re talking about.”
“What’s going on?” Kevin asked.
He, Fisher, Bea, and Lauren appeared as if from nowhere, gathering around Tristan, their expressions serious. Oh, so now that Joaquin was officially involved they were willing to help.
“Darcy Thayer is missing,” Tristan said.
“Wait, like missing missing?” Fisher asked.
“What?” Lauren asked. “But it’s not—”
“We know,” Joaquin said, cutting her off. “Everyone, fan out. We have to find her. Fisher, you get the beach. Kevin, you’re on the docks. Lauren and Bea, you guys go into town, and Krista—”
“I know,” Krista said. “I’m on it.”
She turned and took off into the fog as the others disappeared as well, moving off in all directions. The mist shifted and swirled before swallowing them whole, one by one. Somewhere in the distance, a boat’s bell clanged, the sound muted by the thickness of the air.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “What’s Krista ‘on’?”
Joaquin looked stonily away from me.