I turn to her, stunned. “Oh,” I say, the words awkward, inadequate. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Although I noticed that Ellis wasn’t around, I just assumed he had gone off to college or moved to another town. I’m shocked that he would just take off.
Noa looks toward the trees again, her expression distant. “I used to think Ellis came to the marsh and got lost here. But it’s more likely he went to Miami or even all the way to California. I still listen for him sometimes, when I’m alone—thinking the trees will tell on him.” She lets out a small, sad laugh, almost like she’s trying to make the pain sound distant.
But I hear the ache in her voice even as she tries to hide it. I can only imagine how much this hurts her, especially after losing her mother. Noa and Ellis were close. It had to be hard.
“I always think of this place as another dimension,” she adds. “A place where something can get lost and never come back.”
I’m not sure how to comfort her at first, what I can possibly say. “You did find a lost hotel,” I point out, motioning toward it.
She looks down the road at the Starline, watching her friends as they get closer. I catch the flash of uncertainty, the mix of nerves andpride that she’s trying to keep in check. “Yeah, we did,” she says, her voice steadier now. She turns toward me, invigorated. “Come on.” She grabs my shirt to tug me forward. “Let’s catch up with the others.”
Her fingers trail down my arm until they touch mine for just a second, and then she’s jogging forward, out of my reach.
I’m left a little breathless as I chase after her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
—NOA
We found the Starline Hotel.
We found it just sitting in the marsh like a forgotten tomb, half sunk and rotting, its name barely legible on the plaque near the front.STARLINE HOTEL.I trace my fingers over the letters to make sure it’s all real, the sign slick with moss. It’s real. And one thing’s for sure—this place wasn’t burned to the ground like they say.
I swallow hard and glance up at the building. It’s not as grand as I expected, not anymore. Maybe once, before the Everglades swallowed it up. I try to picture it back then—golden lights spilling out from windows, guests arriving via helicopter, their laughter curling in the warm, humid air. Now, all that’s left is decay.
The hotel stands three stories high, its edges blurred by overgrowth. The second and third floors still cling to some semblance of structure, but the first floor is partially submerged in the swamp. A thick, sludgy kind of quiet settles over the place, and it makes my skin prickle.
“I can’t believe it didn’t completely sink,” Shawn mutters beside me, tapping her toe against a rock. It slips into the water around the entrance of the hotel, and ripples spread and disappear into the murky depths.
Tech stands a few feet away, arms crossed, studying the wreckage like a problem that needs solving. I’m happy he convinced us to do this;I’m happy we all have a chance at redemption. Still… the air is thick with uneasiness.
Next to me, Jamie watches the tree line, his eyes scanning the branches overhead. Darting around like he’s half expecting something to lunge from the shadows.
I probably shouldn’t have told him the trees were listening.
“So how do we get in?” Shawn asks, impatient. “The lobby’s underwater, and I’m not swimming with alligators.”
We all go quiet, scanning the building for an answer. I can smell the scent of wet earth and mildew, and something else, something sharp and sour, like old wood left to rot.
“There.” Tech points to the side of the hotel.
An iron trellis, rusted and warped, clings to the wall like a broken rib cage. It stretches to a second-floor window, waiting there like a black hole straight into the unknown.
I don’t like it. Besides the fact that I hate heightsandthe dark, the trellis looks unstable, the metal stained red with rust and corroded in places. I open my mouth to say it’s a bad idea, but before I can, Tech grips the lowest rung. Testing it before confirming it’s solid.
I’m anxious as Tech starts to climb the trellis, flakes of rust scattering off the bars. The entire iron grid whines under his weight.
“Be careful,” I call instinctively, watching as he grips the bars, his forearms flexed.
Just as Tech looks back at me, one of the rungs breaks off under his sneaker, sending it soaring toward the ground and impaling itself into an overgrown planter. We all stare at it, and then at him.
“My bad,” he says.
“Try not to kill yourself!” Shawn calls up, waving. “Or us!”
“I will do my best,” he replies, a bit out of breath, and then he begins crawling up the trellis again.
I start to gnaw on the corner of my finger, and next to me, Shawn is shifting from one foot to the next. The sound of the metal grates on my nerves, whining and eerie as it echoes.
