Chapter Twenty
Twenty
Margot wanders into the kitchen at midnight, where I’m washing the dishes I was supposed to do hours ago.
I shut off the tap. Margot doesn’t meet my eyes as she makes for the fridge and pops it open. As she reaches for a Tupperware full of leftover lasagna that I have dibs on, I nudge her arm out of the way and shut the refrigerator door.
She’s sleepwalking, something she hasn’t done in years.
“You can eat anything but my pasta,” I murmur, taking her arms and guiding her away from the fridge. I’m a little shocked she made it this far without falling—the old apartment was too small for ample opportunities to hurt herself, and there were no stairs to tumble down.
Margot pulls out of my grip. She approaches the sink, staring intently out the back window and into the dark forest past the rusting swing set and the edge of our yard.
“Let’s get you back to bed,” I say.
A cold breeze drifts over the back of my neck, and I hear Ingrid’s whisper.
Find me.
I spin around, scanning the dim kitchen.
Find me.
It’s coming from the hallway across from the kitchen. I take a few hesitant steps away from Margot.
“Hello?” I ask. “Ingrid?”
The lights flicker. Thunder rattles overhead and lightning tears a purple rip in the sky.
Find me.
The voice is so close to my ear, I could swear I feel breath on my cheek. I lurch back, pain lancing through my hip as I smash it into the countertop.
I grip the edge of the counter.
“Finn?” I say softly, fear making the word wobble.
Two quick beats of my heart later, Finn is at my side. “Hey,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Margot’s sleepwalking, and I was going to take her back to bed when I heard this…” I turn to point to my sister, and dread slithers up my legs like a snake, coiling around my torso and squeezing.
She’s not there.
I turn and clock the open kitchen door. Outside, rain falls in sheets and thunder booms.
Finn materializes in front of me. He reaches out to take my shoulders, then drops his hands, remembering. “How long has she been gone?”
“Thirty seconds? A minute? I should have been paying attention—”
A dozen possibilities run through my mind, each more horrifying than the last. Jutting roots and sharp rocks and deep, cold water.
I bolt for the door, jamming my bare feet into a pair of boots near the back door. They’re a size too big, probably Paige’s, but they’ll keep me from impaling my feet on a rock or twig, so they’re good enough.
“I’m going ahead,” Finn says. “When I see her, I’ll come right back.”
I nod, but he’s already gone, materializing briefly halfway across the yard, a dark silhouette in the rain.
Boots hastily laced, I race out the back door. The rain is coming down harder than it was a few minutes ago. It’s sharp against my skin. The shoes might protect my feet, but there’s nothing for my bare legs and arms in shorts and a T-shirt.
Thunder shakes the ground, vibrating up through my calves. The lightning lingers in my eyes like an echo, making it even more difficult to see through the rain. I stumble through the overgrown backyard.
“This way.” Finn appears at my side as I dip into the woods.
I follow him into the night and almost trip at least six times. All I can think about is Margot, unconscious and stumbling through these trees. About her tripping over some root, and me finding her broken and twisted on the forest floor.
Moonlight from the clearing ahead pokes through the darkness. Sight is a relief, but not much. We’re nearing the creek, and no Margot.
As if sensing my rising terror, Finn says, “We’re going to get her, Jo,” but I don’t even think he believes himself.
I tear into the clearing, slamming to a stop and scanning the dark water.
There. Ahead, near the shore. A pale hand, slipping beneath the waves.
I race for the water, splashing through the muck. And I dive.
I’d always heard that hitting water from a great height feels like smacking cement, and though I’m not falling, the cold makes it feel the same. Every inch of me stings.
I squint, but it’s pitch-black, and I fumble blindly with my hands outstretched, kicking hard. The heavy boots get taken by the current within seconds. I fight against its pull.
My fingers hit the grimy bottom, slicing across jagged rock, but no Margot.
Please don’t take her from me.
I’m not sure who I’m sending the request out to. I’ve never been religious. But right now, I’m begging anyone who will listen.
Lungs screaming, I push back up to the surface, gasping for air. I think Finn calls my name from the shore, but I dive again. I push toward the bottom.
Something stringy brushes against my fingers. Like seaweed. Or hair.
Then, skin. I kick forward, not sure what limbs I’m grabbing, and not caring. I haul Margot into my arms, wrapping one tight around her waist, using the other to swim for shore. My legs scream and burn, but I don’t stop until my bare feet scrape against the rocky shore.
I haul Margot out of the water, her legs and mine still in the muddy bed.
She lies limp in the grass, eyes closed.
And for a moment, there is a flash on her other side: a girl with blond hair and gaunt features.
Ingrid. But she’s gone before my mouth forms the beginning of her name, and the unmoving Margot in front of me takes precedence.
Finn stands beside us, still.
I bend down, my ear next to her mouth. Where there should be a warm puff of breath, there is nothing. Panic leaping into my throat, I press my ear against her chest. It doesn’t rise. Doesn’t fall. Doesn’t do anything.
No pulse. No heartbeat. No Margot.
The panic swells, crests, and as suddenly as it came, it goes away.
I have to save my sister.
“Finn,” I say. “I need my phone. It’s in my room.”
We both know it’s a weighted request. As far as I know, he’s never carried anything for an extended period or distance. But he is my only option. This is the only round of his silly spoon toss that really matters.
“Jo, I don’t—” At my expression, he stops. His lips pull together. “I’ll get it.” Then he’s gone.
My gaze drops to Margot.
I never really thought I’d have to use my CPR training, but I never thought a lot of things that have happened were possible. The rules of the world change every day.
First, open the airway. I don’t think, don’t allow myself to see the girl on the ground as the sister who used to fight off my nightmares. I start compressions, singing that ridiculous song in my head. Thirty compressions, then two breaths. Check for a heartbeat.
Nothing.
“Damn it,” I say.
Compressions. Two more breaths. Compressions. Two more breaths.
“You don’t get to die on me, Margot Griffin. You don’t get to leave me. Not you, too.”
Two more breaths.
Margot jerks, water spewing from her blue lips, eyes snapping open. I push her onto her side, and she hacks into the grass. She falls back against the slope, gasping.
I slump back, hands flying up to my chest. Relief is a warm blanket against the freezing night. I think I might be crying.
“Margot.” I exhale.
Her eyes find mine.
“What happened?” she asks. Her voice is hoarse. Her eyes flick to the creek, to the trees, to the stars overhead.
I let out a laugh, dropping my head against her forehead for a beat. When I lift it, I sweep the wet hairs off her face and give what I hope is a reassuring smile. “You took a little midnight swim.”
Finn materializes at my side, the phone falling from his hands the second he does. It smacks hard against my thigh. I scrabble for it before it bounces away, jabbing the emergency button on the screen.
“Oh, thank god,” Finn says, dropping to his knees. “She’s okay.”
“She’s okay,” I say, giving him a thankful smile. He smiles back.
Margot freezes. Her gaze snaps to my right. To Finn.
“Who the hell is that?” she asks, and promptly passes out.