I blink. And then I’m calling her, unable to breathe.

“Jules!” she says. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Tori, listen to me. How did the vision change at the end? How many dead?”

“I texted you everything,” she says. “Only three bodies.”

“Who were they?” My throat constricts. I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t get an answer immediately.

“I don’t know—everything was dark in the vision at the end. I could only see dark shapes under the water.”

“Can you pull it up and look at it? Get a closer look?” I ask, but I know the answer already.

“It’s over, Jules,” Tori says softly. “I can’t. It’s done.”

Trey grips my hand.

“Sawyer and Ben are . . . missing,” I say. “And I’m just wondering . . . do you think any of the bodies . . .”

She is silent. In shock. “I don’t know. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

I close my eyes. “Nothing. Just . . . send good thoughts. Or pray, or whatever you do.”

She says something else comforting, but I don’t comprehend it. “I can’t talk right now,” I say. I hang up. I never want to talk to her again. And then I look up at Trey.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say. “I’m just so sorry.” The word drags itself from my gravelly throat and comes out like an oath. “I’m so angry . . . at myself. What was I thinking? How could I drag everybody into this? What the hell is wrong with me, Trey?”

He stares at a spot on the carpet for a long moment. And then he says, “You didn’t drag anybody into this. We came willingly, knowing what could happen. You aren’t in control of this thing.” He looks up. “So if you’re going to be mad at anybody, be mad at Dad. If he started it, then this is all his fault.”

Forty-Seven

We want to stay home from school and stare at our phones, waiting for word, but we’re already potentially in enough trouble. And really, if Sawyer or Ben calls, I have no problem barreling out of whatever class I’m in to answer him. So we go to school. By the time first hour is over, Sawyer and Ben have been missing for twelve hours.

I hear a few people talking about the ferry wreck, but there’s no mention of Sawyer. People don’t know he’s missing . . . or possibly dead. And I don’t want them to know. Because today, this grief belongs to me. And I don’t want anybody infiltrating it with their fake-ass, disgusting bullshit.

After psych, Mr. Polselli asks me if I’m feeling all right. I don’t want to cry, so I just nod and take off. At lunch Rowan sits with Trey and me at our usual table. We all look haggard and feel worse. My body is sore and I have bruises in weird places.

We can’t seem to stay off our phones, checking the news, checking Chicago social media reports, seeing if Kate has heard from Sawyer, and both Trey and I get yelled at more than once in sculpting class. We accomplish nothing.

Trey checks the news once more in class and whispers, “There’s a press conference scheduled with some new information. Three bodies pulled from the water.”

My stomach drops. Before I can reply, Ms. White, the art teacher, walks over to our table and holds out her hands. “Hand them over.”

I look up at her and feel all the blood draining from my face. “Please, no. We’ll put them away, I promise.”

“I’ve already asked you to put them away and you didn’t listen.” She sticks her hands closer. “Now, please.”

Trey leans in. “We’re having a little family emergency,” he says in a soft voice. “I’m really sorry. You know we never do this otherwise. We’re just hoping for some . . . some news.”

The teacher hesitates, most likely because we look so horrible today, and finally relents. “Inside your backpacks, then. Don’t let me see them again. You can check for news after class.”

Phew. “Thank you,” I say. “I’m sorry.” We put our phones in our respective backpacks and fake like we’re working on our vase projects as time slows down to a stop. I strain my ears, listening for my phone’s vibration, but I don’t hear anything. And I start to lose hope.

After class, there’s nothing new. The press conference happens during last hour and reveals stuff we already know or suspected: The ferry was diverted because of the weather. On the way into the intended harbor, the ferry hit a sandbar, the engines cut, the pilot was injured, and the ferry smashed into a breakwall, which tore open the vessel. It began taking on water, and within forty minutes, the wreck had sunk. All but two passengers made it off the ferry. A third reportedly drowned while attempting rescue. They aren’t releasing the names of the victims yet because families haven’t been notified.

We three meet up after school. “One of them on the ferry was that guy in first class,” Rowan says when Trey and I reach her locker. She shudders. “Ben said he was probably dead, and there was no time, so we had to leave him.”

“So that’s one of the three. But none of us saw Sawyer jump. The girl, Bridget, said he went back for another life vest . . . so maybe he never made it out. And I saw Ben swimming far off the rear end of the ferry. That’s the last time anybody saw him. Could he be the third?”

Neither responds.

I want to die.

I think I really am losing my mind.

And speaking of that, I’ve put it off long enough. And I know what it’s time to do. “I’m going to talk to Dad,” I tell Trey and Rowan as we trudge to the car after school. “I don’t care anymore what they do to me.”