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different, maybe a little guilty. But as quickly as the idea materializes, I dismiss it. These are my best friends. Nobody killed me.
    But then, how is it possible that I drowned?
    Mera doesn’t stop screaming, not even after my friends have gone outside after her. And then I hear them, all of them, reacting as they see me.
    It’s pure horror. I close my eyes.
    “Do you want to go out there?” Alex asks, his tone tentative. He already knows the answer.
    I shake my head. When I speak, the words come out fast and frantic. “I want to go home. You said I can go home. How do I do that?”
    “They’ll be calling your parents soon, Liz.” He shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea.”
    I stare at him. Who is he to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do right now? “I don’t care. I want to go home.”
    “But do you really want to see that? I’m telling you, it will break your heart.”
    “Now,” I tell him firmly. “Before it’s too late. Before they get the call.”
    “Okay …,” he says, obviously reluctant. “It’s just like earlier, when you went into the memory with me. Just close your eyes, and imagine that you’re already home.” He pauses. “Do you want me to come with you?”
    My breath is shaky. I don’t want him with me; I don’t even like him. But more than that, I don’t want to be alone.
    “Yes,” I admit. “Will you come?”
    He almost shudders. “You’ll have to touch me again.”
    “Oh, how terrible for you.” With force, I clasp my hand onto his shoulder. “Close your eyes,” I order. “Let’s go.”
    My parents are still asleep in bed. I call them my parents; I’ve been calling my stepmom, Nicole, “Mom” for the last eight years, which is as long as she’s been married to my dad. I know it might seem strange that she fell into the role so quickly—my mom wasn’t dead a year before Nicole and my dad married—but I was so young. And like I said, I was angry with my mother for leaving us. Nicole had always been nice to me. And when I got her as a stepmom, I got Josie, too. I had a sister. We were best friends. It was like a slumber party every night.
    I try not to think about what’s happening on the boat. I stand at the foot of the bed for a few moments, gazing at them while they sleep peacefully, watching their easy breathing, knowing it will likely be their last night like this for a very long time.
    My father looks like a bear; he’s a big guy, heavy, who likes scotch and cigars and rich food. Even though it’s a Sunday, I’m surprised that he’s home; I remember him working almost all the time. He’s a corporate attorney, which is a pretty high-stress job. Sometimes I think he’s a workaholic; he had a mild heart attack when I was only fourteen years old, and he was back at work less than two weeks later.
    It’s funny; after my mom died, I was always so worried about my father’s health. I used to try and imagine what life would be like without him. I think that after losing one parent so young, I was always kind of bracing myself for the other shoe to drop. So to speak.
    It never occurred to me—not for a moment—that I could die before my dad. I’m only eighteen! Eighteen-year-olds aren’t supposed to die.
    But Alex did, and when he was only seventeen. And now me. I can’t stop wondering—why are we together? I barely knew him. He was quiet, shy, obviously a loner. Nevertheless, despite our apparent character differences, I have to admit it’s much better to have someone to talk to than it would be to go through this all alone, like Alex has been doing for the past year.
    As Alex watches me, softly—as though I’m afraid of waking them—I crawl into bed between my parents, on top of the comforter. It’s something I haven’t done since I was very little, and only with my real parents—never my dad and Nicole—but right now it feels like what I need to do.
    I lie between them and listen to their quiet breathing. Just like it was with my