Prologue

“Hey, Dad, where are the keys?” I shout up the stairs. He ignores me, probably trying to pretend that he’s not there. He gets so deep into his work that he actually forgets he has a wife and kids sometimes. “Dad!”

“It’s in the kitchen drawer where I always put it! How many times have I told you not to bother me?” He slams the door to his office. I sigh and move to the kitchen. They’re right where he said they were. Oops. I don’t bother going up and apologizing, because Mom is waiting in the car and Dad would just yell at me again anyway.

“Later, moron,” I hear my brother say. I turn to see Matt sneer at me. He’s flopped on the couch and has a bag of Cheeto's in his hand. There’s a circle of orange around his mouth from the food and I grimace.

“Yeah, later, disgusting fatso,” I say, making a revolted face for him. I leave before he can come up with a comeback.

“Did you find them?” Mom yells from the car. I open the door and sit in the driver’s seat, dangling the keys in front of her face. I put them in the ignition.

“I want to drive!” RaeAnn whines from the backseat. I roll my eyes.

“You always drive.”

“So?” she retorts. “I can actually park—”

“So where are we going to shop?” I ask Mom, shifting the gear into reverse and backing down the driveway. RaeAnn leans back to pout.

“Well, just to warn you girls, I want to get the cheapest we can for school supplies. You know Dad and I are trying to cut back—”

“We don’t care, Mom,” I say impatiently. RaeAnn gasps and leans back forward so her head is between the two seats.

“Of course we care, Lissa! I can’t go around the school carrying neon orange folders that will rip when I put them in my locker!”

“We won’t get ugly supplies, honey,” Mom soothes. RaeAnn frowns.

“Mom, you don’t get it. This is a private school! All the other kids will be wearing designer clothes and the girls will have manicures—”

“Who cares?” I moan, driving nowhere. “Where do you want to go, Mom?” I ask again.

“I guess we can just go to the mall for your clothes," she says wearily. RaeAnn squeals.

“Goody! The mall!” She laughs, the sound ringing through the car prettily, like a bell. Mom smiles at RaeAnn fondly. I ignore the tightening in my chest.

“Sure,” I say. “Now do you have any idea where it is?”

Mom shrugs. “Can’t be that hard to find.”

“Lissa, can I pick out some of your clothes?” RaeAnn asks excitedly.

“No,” I answer flatly. RaeAnn’s face crumples.

“You’re going to look like a vampire again? In this school?”

“I guess so.”

“Mom!” RaeAnn wails. Our mother sighs.

“Lissa, please, can’t you—”

“No way!” I protest. “She’ll turn me in Malibu Barbie!”

“I will not!” RaeAnn snaps. I just vehemently shake my head. RaeAnn purses her lips.

“Great. I’m going to be known as the freak’s sister again," she says sarcastically. Stung, I don’t say anything. Mom doesn’t either. RaeAnn groans and sit back again. I turn up the radio, turning it to a rock station.

“Oh gawd!” RaeAnn shrieks. “Turn it! Right now! My ears are falling off!” I ignore her, and turn it up. “Mom!” she squeals again. God, how could we have shared the same womb?

“Lissa, for Pete’s sake, just turn the station!”

“Are you kidding?” I demand. “Mom, do you really want to listen to that whiny, disgusting oh-shoot-me-we-broke-up crap she listens to?”

Mom hesitates.

RaeAnn’s mouth drops in indignation. “My music is not—”

“Your music is stupid,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “It should be destroyed and labeled as an insult to the music world.”

RaeAnn’s angry expression suddenly changes to a wounded look. “Why do you always have to be such a—”

“Why do you have to be my sister?” I shoot at her, wanting to get back at her for managing to hurt me. Mom sighs again, and RaeAnn’s eyes well up with tears. I purse my lips.

“Forget it. Go ahead and listen to what you want,” she mumbles, turning to face out the window. I roll my eyes and turn up the volume, trying to ignore the feeling of guilt. But I can’t and I turn around to face her.

“Look, I’m—”

“Lissa, look out!” Mom shouts. I look at the road, jerk my hand back from the radio and turned the wheel sharply to the right to avoid the pickup coming at us head-on.

RaeAnn screams. Mom gasps in horror. It’s the last thing I hear before we crash, and then there's nothing.

* * * * *

Beeping. There’s an annoying beeping in my right ear. Someone make it stop. Beep. Beep. Beep. Why isn’t anyone turning it off?

I’ve got a headache. Oh, wow, it’s a massive headache. Pain. Pain. It’s all I’m aware of. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, trying to figure things out.

Okay. I’m lying in a bed. Yeah, it feels like a bed. But not my bed. No, definitely not my bed. It’s not as soft. And why am I laying on my back? I never lay on my back. And why is that beeping still so loud?

Ow. Ow, my hands hurt. It feels like there’s needles embedded in them. I try to open my eyes now, to look at my hands. But they won’t open. Why won’t they open? They’re so heavy… I start to panic. I don’t like this. I try to move my leg to swing it over the side of the bed, but pain shoots up it and I gasp.

“Lissa?” someone whispers, putting their hand on my cheek. I jerk my head away, and pay for it. I whimper with the pain.

“Is she awake?” someone else asks. I am dimly aware of the sound of heels clicking across a floor, but I soon am focusing on my pain again.

“Make it stop,” I manage to say. The hand smooths back my hair comfortingly.

“Okay, honey. Don’t worry, we’ll make it stop,” they croon. Then, to the other person, “I think she needs more meds.”

“Meds?” I croak. “Why?”

“It’s going to be okay, honey. It’s all going to be all right.” I don’t answer; I’m falling into a large black hole.

* * * * *

It’s raining. Good. Rain is always appropriate on days like this. I faintly hope I catch pneumonia. In the distance I hear a rumble of thunder. It’s in the rules that there should be thunder on days like this, isn’t it? When I was little I used to think that thunder was the sound of God’s great sobs. So yeah, today thunder is appropriate. It’ll be appropriate any day from now on, in fact.

Who gets to make up all the rules? I curse the one who does. Who gets to decide who stays and who goes? I curse them with everything I have. Why, why would that Maker of All the Rules let this happen? Why? I pound the questions around and around in my mind, wanting an answer.

My head begins so throb. I grit my teeth so hard that my jaw aches. Good. I want the pain. I deserve the pain. Anger forms a heaviness in my stomach. I clench my fists as I glare down in to the hole in the ground, and I do not move even when the men start shoveling dirt into it.

I don't feel the rain dripping off the end of my nose. I just watch as the rain starts to fill up the space around the casket. The men continue to fill the hole, every pile of dirt in their shovels turning into mud when they throw it in. I want to scream at them. I want to run at them and beat their faces into unrecognizable pulps.

But at the same time, I want to drop to my knees and cover my face and cry my eyes out. I want to jump into the ground with her and let them bury me. It could have been me. It should have been me.

“What will I do without you?” I whisper.

She doesn’t answer.

It’s so final that I blink in realization. She’s gone. She’s really gone. I cross my arms as goose bumps begin to form on them.

“RaeAnn?” I whimper. “Can you hear me?” She remains silent, maybe punishing me for my cruelty to her. “RaeAnn?” My voice breaks. “Please? Please, answer me?”

One of the men gives me an odd look. I don’t care.

“RaeAnn, I need you!” I say louder, leaning over her. Part of my mind tells me to shut up, and stay cool. But I’ve never listened to anything or anyone that well. Panic now sets in as I picture a life without her. A life without my twin.

“No, please, please,” I beg, “just come back. I promise, I’ll do anything. I’ll let you drive all the time. I’ll let you have control of the radio. I’ll let you pick out all of my clothes. I’ll let you sleep in my bed when you get scared of a storm. I won’t insult your boyfriends anymore. I won’t steal the bathroom from you… just please, please come back!” I lose control of everything and I actually do drop to the ground. “Come back!” I sob, tears running down my cheeks. “Come back!”

One of the men mutters something to his friend, and they approach me.

“Where are your parents?” a bearded man asks me. I hiccup, staring hard at RaeAnn’s remains.

“Does she know I love her?” I whisper. “Does she know I wouldn’t trade her as a sister for anything else in the world?” I tear my gaze away from her and look up at him. “Does she know?” I ask him desperately. He draws back.

“I think they’re over by that car in the parking lot,” another man says, pointing. I don’t look. I turn back to RaeAnn.

“I love you,” I tell her brokenly, clutching the skirt of my black dress until my knuckles turn white. “Please, RaeAnn, I said it. You were always bugging me to say it. I said it. I’ll say it as many times as you want. Please. I love you.”

One of the diggers runs over to my parents. I bend over my knees, sobbing, letting my hair trail in the mud.

“RaeAnn!” I cry. “Please, don’t leave me. Please. I don’t think I can do this...” I feel like I am going to throw up. I just sob into the mud, crying out her name.

Gentle hands circle me, pull me close.

“I think it’s time to go, sweetie,” Mom says in my ear.

I shake my head.

“No!” I shout. “She’ll come back! She won’t leave me!” Mom looks helplessly at Dad.

“She would want you to get dry and be warm if she was here,” she tells me quietly. I just shake my head again. Mom glances at the crowd of watching diggers.

“She’ll come back,” I repeat firmly, not taking my eyes off of RaeAnn.

“Steven?” Mom asks. He sighs, and, before I know what is happening, scoops me up in his arms, carrying me away from my sister.

“No!” I scream, beating at his chest. “No, we can’t leave her! She’s coming back. She’s coming back!”

“Oh, Lissa,” Mom says tearfully, following.

“RaeAnn,” I sob, reaching out to her with my arms as we abandon her in the cold, uncaring ground. “RaeAnn…”