My arms push me off the ledge before I think about it. It’s a fairly long drop from the loft to the floor, and my knees vibrate with the force of landing. But I don’t fall. I will not let my plan fail, and that thought propels me forward like a wave. I step toward my sister. Her eyes widen enough for me to know my leap surprised her.

“I want you to tell me we’re going to find that box,” I say. “And then I want you to come outside with me and take pictures in the rain.”

She gathers herself and picks up her iPod, slides it into her pocket and starts lifting the earbuds to her ears. “Can I be left with some semblance of normalcy and privacy for two seconds, please?” she says.

It’s like the wind and crashing thunder have started storming inside my skull, and I yank the earbuds from her hands, ready to tug them away, but Ruth snatches them back.

“What the—”

“Why? Why?” I ask, backhanding the air.

“Calm d—”

“We’re in the middle of a monsoon in the desert. With people who are taking us to pirate ships and probably buying us chocolate right now. Look at that storm. Can’t you see it’s magic? Magic? That box … we put that box there, all those things. I mean, don’t you remember? Don’t you remember the Treasure Hunts? We’ll go to the cave again, together, and it has to be there, it … or something. Something is there. Don’t you understand? How can you not get how … how important that is?”

Ruth’s mouth opens, but I barrel on like a tsunami with miles of wind building up behind it. My whole being is laser focused and I understand in this moment how storms have eyes, how those eyes see nothing but what they’re pointed toward.

“And not once, not once have you let me be excited. About the treasure box, about the ships. One time. And you know what? You think I don’t get it. You think I don’t get that things are hard for you. I mean, you say that often enough. I’m some stupid, idiot puppy to you. Well, you know what? It’s not all peaches and roses over here. You have no idea because it’s all about you; you don’t care about anyone else’s problems. You don’t listen. Can you really not think about someone else for two seconds?”

Ruth’s eyes are wide, wide, wide, and there’s an ocean inside them, and she stares at me while our currents whirlpool and our tides clash.