Nella Hampton blinked. A tear fell onto the page of her textbook, blurring the letters and wrinkling the paper.

“It’s no use.” She slammed the textbook shut and tossed it onto her desk. She’d been staring at the same paragraph about phytoplankton for the better part of ten minutes, while cruel images of her red-headed twerp of a sister—dying, bleeding, lost or alone—tormented her.

Not knowing was the worst of it all. If she could even see Millie again, if she could have some closure, she would be able to pick herself and Mom up again and keep going with life.

She sighed. She couldn’t count the times she’d had to pull Mom up off the floor over the past two days, after finding her delirious with grief. For once, she’d had to make the sweet tea herself—something Mom had never let her do. She never made it sweet enough. But Mom hadn’t complained, her tear-streaked, blotchy face void of emotion as she’d sat on the couch and sipped Nella’s hastily-iced brew.

Nella’s stomach twisted with a sensation halfway between hunger and nausea. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, and she didn’t particularly care. Whatever she tried to choke down would probably come back up when the grief decided to hit full-force again.

She stood, running her fingers back through her long, dark hair to pull it up. If nothing else, she’d go see if Mom was awake, and if not, she’d head down to the riverside and try to let the early morning chill soothe her frazzled psyche.

The riverside. She paused, her ponytail only halfway through the elastic in her hand. The word struck a sense of urgency deep through her veins. It aggravated the turmoil in her stomach, made her heart beat race.

She hurried to her bedroom door, wrenched it open, and darted past the kitchen. Water ran in the sink, and pots clinked as her mother washed them.

“Where are you going?”

Nella slipped into her flip-flops. She couldn’t explain why. She just had to go.

“Nella. We were gonna have breakfast.” Mom peeked from behind the bar in the kitchen. “You can’t go running off now.”

“I won’t be long, I promise.” She ran back to her room, snatched the Blackberry from her desk, and stuffed it in the pocket of her pajamas.

“This isn’t like you.” This time Mom met her in the hallway. Her curled, dark red hair hung in limp strings from a messy bun, and heavy bags underscored her haunted green eyes.

“I know.” She never did anything without a reason. She never went running off, like Millie did, on some seat-of-the-pants adventure. But she had to go to the river. It was important for reasons she couldn’t even explain to herself.

Mom studied her face, her eyes moving back and forth between Nella’s, her freckled arms crossed. That look crossed her features, one Nella was too familiar with—that look she got when there was something deeper happening, something she didn’t quite understand, but left it in “God’s hands.”

Nella didn’t believe in God the way Mom and Millie did, or Dad had. But now, she couldn’t have been more grateful for Mom’s strange Catholic ways.

Mom stepped out of the way and sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on. But you need to go.”

Nella nodded and squeezed Mom’s hand as she passed her. “I’ll be back soon.”

She got out the door, letting it swing shut behind her, and kept up a brisk pace all the way down the sloped road that led to Briar Park. It opened like a painting before her, the expansive lawn thick with fog, the trees on the riverbanks dark and silhouetted in the faint light of dawn.

The relative calm only made her heart beat faster. She broke into a run, slipping a few times on her flip-flops. The road began to flatten and angle to the right, where it narrowed and forked off into a parking lot on the left, but continued towards the river on the right.

She followed it past the lot, worn out by the run, her stomach now growling in retaliation. She really should have eaten something before coming all the way down here.

Her eyes followed the road down to the concrete boat ramp leading into the water. The river ran low and still, though a few leaves floated on the surface and rode the current downstream, to the left. She hugged her torso as she stepped under the damp, cool shade of the trees.

Her heart refused to slow its pace. She glanced up and down the banks, rubbing her arms for warmth.

A blotch of dark red against the green of late summer grass made her eyes pause. The blotch focused and took form—pale arms and legs, darkened by the shade, extended from the sprawled figure, wrapped with some kind of brown garment.

Nella’s heart stopped, then leapt. “Millie?” It couldn’t be. The police had searched everywhere, had traversed the length of the river trying to find her.

She forced herself to move. The closer she came to the figure, the more she recognized its pointed nose, its curls of red hair, and the birthmark on the back of its leg.

“Millie!” She stumbled to a halt beside her sister and knelt, pushing back her sopping wet hair to feel for a pulse. Her skin was rough to the touch, and like ice. Something faint fluttered underneath Nella’s fingers, though. Heart racing with hope, she hurried to turn Millie onto her back.

Millie lurched awake as Nella made to move her, choking, her eyes wide and bloodshot.

“Millie!” Nella couldn’t hold back a choked laugh. She was alive. Millie was alive. “Here, kneel down and cough it up.” She pulled Millie up and held back her hair, tucking the brown scapular she always wore back inside her collar.

Millie, her limbs trembling, retched into the grass, then heaved for breath. “Nellie?”

“Yes, I’m here. I’m here.” She gathered Millie up in her arms and tried to still her shivering. They would have to take her to the hospital, of course, and detox her from any drugs she might have been given. It would be a rough road. But she was alive. That was everything.

She dug in her pants pocket and pulled out her phone, dialing the house number with a trembling thumb. “Mom.” Her voice broke even as she smiled down at her sister. She didn’t know how. She didn’t know why. But none of it mattered right now. “I’ve got Millie.”