The truth came in fragments. Like shards of glass, they were sharp, painful, and distorted the world.
Sirens—not the distant kind, but the close, screaming sound that seemed to chase them. Paperwork rustling. Voices lowered out of respect, as if grief could hear and take offense at a normal tone. Mrs. Thompson's hands shaking uncontrollably as she tried to keep her voice steady while answering questions.
Eloise sat on the high stool behind the front desk, her legs swinging uselessly, unable to reach the floor. She clutched the small heart pendant of her necklace tight in her fist like it was the only thing that could anchor the world back into place.
Eloise didn't understand why her father and brother still hadn't returned from sightseeing the campus of her new music school. They were supposed to be back by now—laughing, arguing about which roller coaster to ride first, and also planning where they'd eat afterward.
