Frankie’s eyes widened as she realized that we could splinter off and have our own relationships. Because that’s how it is with sisters, especially three of them. We’re never three separate circles, forming perfect Venn diagrams, with overlapping sections equaling the same size. Instead, our intersections morph and twist and sometimes disappear depending on the time of year or month—who’s busy with midterms or bat mitzvah preparation. Who needs help. Who thinks they don’t.
“What should our secret be?” Frankie asked.
I looked down at the pen and paper in my hand and drew a heart, then divided it into three sections, lines shooting off from the bottom point. “How about this?” I said, turning it to face her. “Whenever we see this symbol, we know the other needs us, and we drop everything to go help each other.”
We practiced drawing the heart over and over in my room for anhour, and when Lucy finally came around to see what we were up to, Frankie hid the paper behind her back, elbowing me in the ribs.
It’s stuck over the years, like when Frankie got detention for her too-short skirt, when Dad learned I spent $150 at the Book Bonanza without his permission—but we never discussed it out loud again. I never learned if Frankie ended up having a secret with Lucy, though I always wondered if they found a way to create a bond that didn’t include me.
“Come on,” Lucy says as we pull into the police station parking lot. “It’s time, Ethan.”
“I can’t go in there. I can’t.” He’s shaking his head now, his arms folded over his stomach.
Ethan whimpers beside her as Lucy turns around and plays with the ends of her hair.Help me.
I reach out my hand and graze his shoulder, feeling him stiff beneath my touch. “We’re going to tell them what we saw,” I say. “That’s it. My dad’s already in there. Frankie texted me.”
Lucy nods. “Everything’s going to be all right. It’s just a few questions.”
Ethan sniffles and turns his head to face me. “Stay with me?” he asks. “I can’t do it alone.”
A rock sinks to the bottom of my stomach. How has this dead body,Billy’s dead body, forced those words out of Ethan’s lips?
“Of course,” I say, and mean it.
—
Ethan and Isit side by side in uncomfortable metal chairs behind a table as my dad paces the room, waiting for the detective to takea seat. When she finally does, she flips open a manila folder, and her perfect red manicure is stark against the white papers.
“Thanks for coming in, kids,” Detective Hampton says. “We need some more information on what happened.”
My dad stops pacing behind us and rests a hand on my shoulder. “These two have been through a lot today,” he says. “Let’s keep this as short as we can?”
Hampton flicks her eyes to him but then turns her gaze back to me.
“Can you walk me through the events that led up to you swimming out to the body?” she says. “To Billy?”
I knit my hands together in my lap and recount the morning step-by-step. But I don’t know how to explain to her how cold Billy was. How his skin was tinted blue, how obvious it was there was nothing left to save. My breathing grows ragged, and I’m suddenly dizzy, air coming to me in gasps.
When I finally finish speaking, I’m left with only this understanding: Billy Godwin isdead, and I held his lifeless body in my arms.
“She was amazing,” Ethan says quietly. “I…I couldn’t do anything.”
“You were in shock. We both were.” I swallow and force out the words. “Was there a chance I could have…we could have…”
“He’d been dead for hours by the time you found him,” she says, her voice kinder than it was a few minutes before. “There was no way you could have saved him.”
“Oh.” I clench my hands into fists and glance at my dad, whose arms are crossed over his chest.
“Billy had some marks on his body,” she says, her voice still kind but affirmative, like she has a plan. “Did you see them?”
I squeeze my eyes shut.The ripped jeans. His bruised torso. Scratches up and down his arms. A wound on his scalp. Slashes on his cheeks.I blink, desperate to rid the images from my mind.
I nod at the same time Ethan says, “No. Not at all.” I turn to him and wonder how he could have missed them. “I don’t understand,” Ethan says. “I thought he drowned.”
“We don’t have a cause of death right now,” Hampton says. “It could take weeks before we have answers.”
Dad rests a hand on my shoulder. “I think that may be enough for today,” he says. “These kids have been through hell, and I’d like to get them home.”
