Katherine Webber

Scholastic Press
New York
Copyright © 2018 by Katherine Webber

All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of

Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. scholastic, scholastic press,
and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of
Scholastic Inc.

Originally published in Great Britain in 2018 by Walker Books Ltd.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any
responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other wise, without written
permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write
to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway,
New York, NY 10012.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

ISBN 978-1-338-57877-5

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 20 21 22 23 24

Printed in the U.S.A. 23

First US edition, January 2020

Book design by Baily Crawford
FoR My BrOtHeR, JaCk, AnD My SiStEr, JaNe
SpRiNg
 Chapter 1
ShE StIlL WaKeS Me To watch the sunrise.
Not every morning, but often enough. There are so many things
we can’t do together anymore. But this, we can still do this.
“Reiko,” my sister, Mika, whispers in my ear. “Reiko, wake up.
We’ll miss it!”
My room is already filling with that hazy pre-dawn light
that  means the sun will be peeking out over the mountains in a
few minutes.
“Hurry,” Mika says, bouncing on her toes. She’s wearing the
same yellow cotton dress she always wears. No matter what time it
is or what the weather is like. She’s always in the same yellow
dress.
I groan but get out of bed, pulling on the blue silk robe hanging
on the back of my chair. I open my window, and then, glancing
back to make sure Mika is still there, pop the screen out and slip
onto the roof of my garage.
Mika crawls out after me, and we sit at the edge, her legs dan-
gling off, mine tucked under me, and watch the sunrise over the

3
mountains. The golden red light turns the palm trees into silhou-
ettes across the desert.
Mika scoots closer to me and rests her head on my shoulder.
She’s more affectionate in the mornings. Less sassy, more snuggly.
I yawn and put my head on hers.
“I’ll never get sick of watching the sunrise,” Mika says softly.
“Me either,” I say.
“It’s like magic every morning.”
I nod, watching the sky change color right before my eyes. Then
I yawn again. “There are few things I’d wake up this early for, but
a desert sunrise is one of them.”
Mika pulls back to face me, her dark, wide eyes unblinking.
“But you’d wake up for me, right? It’s not the sunrise that gets
you up?”
It’s early May in Palm Springs, so the morning is warm, but her
words send a chill through me. I wrap my arm around her thin
shoulders. “Of course, Mika,” I say. “Always.”
“Good. Because I’d do anything for you.”
This is the truest thing in my life.
And all I can do in return is smile and squeeze her hand. I love
her so much it makes my heart feel like a balloon that’s about to
burst. It hurts, how much I love her.
Mika stands, pulling me up with her. She lets go of my hand
and tiptoes along the edge of the roof, balancing like a tightrope
walker. Then she glances over her shoulder at me with a mischie-
vous grin. “Dare me to jump?” she says, lifting a foot and leaning
precariously over the side, arms out like a scarecrow.

4
 “Mika!” I say, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back toward
me. Back toward safety.
She laughs. “Oh, come on, Reiko. It isn’t that high. You climb
higher, right? When you go rock climbing?” Her eyes are curious
and hungry. Hungry for a world that she can’t exist in anymore.
Because she can’t go anywhere with me. Can’t even leave our
house.
Because my sister, Mika—the Mika I see, the Mika I’m stand-
ing next to, the Mika I love with all of my heart, the Mika I’d do
anything for—is dead.

5
 Chapter 2
At ScHoOl, NoBoDy KnOwS I still see Mika.
Nobody knows that I watch the sunrise with her almost every
morning.
Nobody knows about the holes inside of me.
I put on concealer, hiding my dark circles. I paint on bright
lipstick.
And I smile.
All day long.
In class, I say everything my teachers want to hear. At lunch, I
sit with my girls, leaning in to hear the latest gossip about who did
what over the weekend or who hooked up with who. I flirt with
boys I’m not interested in but who are socially acceptable to flirt
with. I laugh and I preen because that’s what is expected of me.
I hold my head high under an invisible crown as I glide from
class to class, still smiling all the while, and when I feel myself
about to stumble, I remind myself who I am.
I’m Reiko Smith-Mori. I shine the brightest.
But sometimes I wonder if it will ever be enough.

6
 If I’ll ever be enough.
If I can be good enough as one when there should have been
two.
I have to be.

The days are melting in the heat, and it isn’t even summer yet.
When this weekend comes, I barricade myself at home. I give my
friends fake excuses for why I can’t go to this or that party, and
then I tell my parents I’ve got studying to do. But I’m not studying.
I’m in my room with Mika. Trying to be a better sister. The kind
of sister she deserves. I put the blinds down to keep the sun out and
blast the air conditioner to keep us cool. Not that Mika ever gets
hot. We paint each other’s nails (I even let her use my expensive
nail polish) and play hours and hours of Monopoly.
By the time Saturday night comes around, I’m itching to get
outside. Aching for an adventure. This happens when I spend too
much time inside with Mika now. Sometimes the guilt tying me
to her gets so heavy I can’t move, can’t breathe—and then I need to
get out. I have to take advantage of every breath I have. To make it
count. For me and for Mika.
Tonight is one of those nights.
So even though it is almost two in the morning, I slip out of
the front door and into my red Jeep. I’ve never told anyone, but the
reason I wanted a Jeep is because it makes me feel like an adven-
turer. Like someone brave who never needs to be rescued.
I drive, and I drive, on and on, until I get to the edges of Joshua
Tree. It’s a national park, about an hour from Palm Springs. In the

7
moonlight, the spiky branches of its namesake trees look alien,
like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. I’ve been here a few times
before, but tonight it feels like the park is calling me. There’s a
boulder out here that’s great to climb. I feel safe with it, even at
night, even alone.
Last year, I started rock climbing, and I love the way it makes
me feel: strong, like I can do anything, but also small, like I’m this
infinitesimal, inconsequential thing on this earth, in this universe.
When your fingertips are gripping rock and there’s a long drop
below you and the sky up above, you can’t focus on anything but
being alive. Especially at night.
I park and hop out of my Jeep. My climbing shoes are already
on my feet. I just need to attach the little pouch filled with climb-
ing chalk around my waist and I’m ready to go.
The moon is bright enough that I don’t even need my flashlight.
I go up to my boulder and pat it, the way someone would pat a
horse. “Hi, pretty,” I coo. Then I laugh quietly at myself, imagin-
ing how my friends would react if they saw me talking to a rock.
Everyone expects me to be a certain way, but here, in the dark, on
my own, I can be however I want to be. I don’t have to worry
about looking cool or being cool or anything at all. I can just
breathe.
“Here we go,” I whisper, both to the rock and myself.
My fingers slip into the familiar crevices, and my feet find the
almost invisible clefts in the rock, just enough for me to start to
climb up. Toward the stars.

8
 The final stretch of the climb is tricky. I take a deep breath, and
I swear the night breathes back. Then I swing my legs up, grab hold
of the top ledge, and start to haul myself up the last bit with my
arms. I’m sweating hard and breathing fast and with a jolt I realize—
There is someone here.
Someone on my boulder.
We lock eyes, and the air fissures. In the same moment I find his
gaze, I lose my grip. With a small cry, I scramble against the boul-
der, fingers digging for purchase in the granite, feet slipping out
from beneath me.
His eyes widen and he reaches out for me, but he is too far
away, and I’m already sliding, and then I’m back on the ground
with a thump.
“Shit,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
There is a shadow above me and then a voice:
“Are you all right?”
I tilt my head back to see who is talking to me.
To see who is out under my sky, on the top of my boulder.

9
ORDER YOUR COPY!