Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“Sarah!” My mom ran toward me, hugging me so tightly I choked on my next breath. Dad and my sisters followed her to the front door, all hugging me. My mom, Eve, and Gabby wiped tears from their faces, but my dad blinked his away despite his red eyes.
My heart plummeted into the pit of my stomach. They knew. But why were my sisters crying? I wanted to turn around and chase Isaac. Something wasn’t right.
“Hey, um …” I started to panic, but I didn’t want them to see it, so I swallowed hard and plastered on a smile.
“Where have you been?” Mom pressed her palms to my face, releasing a sob.
My smile faded. The gravity of whatever had her in a fit of worry seemed bigger than my need to look happy.
“Uh, I’ve been camping with my friends. W-why?” My voice shook as I stuck with the lie because I didn’t have the strength to share the truth.
Mom narrowed her eyes and reared her head back as she let go of me and cupped a hand at her mouth.
I looked at my dad and sisters. Why were Gabby and Eve crying?
“Go upstairs, girls,” Dad said, eyeing them.
Without resistance, they obeyed, and they never obeyed that easily.
“Where have you been?” My dad’s voice was thick with an emotion I didn’t recognize. He seemed angry but hurt— scared but relieved.
He knew. But how? It didn’t make sense. And if he knew, then why did he ask me as if he didn’t know?
“W-what is going on?” I whispered past the lump in my throat, wide eyes ping-ponging between my parents.
Mom covered her face with both hands and cried.
“Sarah,” Dad’s voice cracked before he cleared his throat, “Heather and Joanna were in a car accident.”
That was it. That was all I heard. The room spun, and his voice became a distant, mumbled echo. His mouth moved, hands making gestures before raking through his hair.
“Sarah?”
I heard him wrong. It was a weird dream.
“Sarah?” He grabbed my shoulders. “Did you hear what I said?”
My gaze made a slow shift from his moving lips to his narrowed eyes.
I shook my head. “W-what?” I could barely hear my own voice.
Did he hear me?
“Where have you been?” He moved his hands from my shoulders to my face like my mom had held me. “Sarah, did you hear me? Heather and Joanna were in a car accident.” Dad’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “They didn’t make it. Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick. Praying for your safe return. Nobody knew where you were. Your other friends thought you were home. We went to the police. Sarah Elaine Jacobson, talk to me!”
Everything burned like tiny bees stinging my skin, and my vision blurred behind my tears. I couldn’t breathe. Where was the air? Why couldn’t I find my next breath?
“H-Heath … H-Heather … no … what … NO!” I shook my head and backed away from him until I hit the door. “No …” I continued to shake my head.
My parents stepped toward me.
“NO! Don’t touch me. No. You’re lying. That’s n-not f-funny.”
“Sweetie—”
Mom held out her arms and reached for me.
“STOP!” I batted at her hand. “W-why would you s-say that? Don’t say t-that.” I sobbed, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “Don’t. Ever. Say. That!” I grabbed my bag and ran upstairs.
“Sarah?” Eve called.
I slammed my door and locked it. Then I moved my desk in front of it, knocking the lamp on the floor and breaking the lightbulb. I choked on my emotions while backing away from the barricaded door. When I hit the opposite wall, I slid to my butt and hugged my knees to my chest.
“No no no no no no no …” I whispered, pinching my eyes shut while my teeth chattered.
I hated my parents.
I hated Heather and Joanna for playing such a horrible joke on me.
But mostly, I hated God because my heart knew what my mind refused to believe. And no loving god would allow that to happen to my friends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
KANSAS, “DUST IN THE WIND”
The phone rang nonstop, so I yanked the cord out of the wall. My family knocked at my door incessantly, so I put on my headphones and listened to music.
I sat in the same spot, staring at near darkness as the moon was barely a sliver that night. The bed was too far away. Moving felt impossible when breathing took everything I had left. So I eventually leaned to the side, resting on the floor in a ball, staring at black figures under my bed. They were boxes and boxes of pictures and yearbooks. Heather and Joanna were in those boxes.
Short spells of sleep gave me moments of reprieve between the endless tears. When the first morning light pierced through my shades, I winced while sitting up. My head felt heavy, and my eyes were painfully swollen. The desk was in front of my door, which meant it wasn’t just a bad dream.