Cover

Dedication

For Aki,

who fills even the stormy days with sunshine

Epigraph

Glory be to God

for dappled things.

—GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS

“Pied Beauty”

Would Sarah and Jack have clasped hands and stepped into the tunnel if you or I could have warned them of the darkness that awaited them on the other side? I suppose I like to think they would, or there would be no story to tell.

—R. M. WILDSMITH,

The World at the End of the Tunnel

1

The spot appears on the morning of Gram’s funeral.

It arrives unannounced and uninvited, like a fly buzzing around a picnic.

Not that my life is a picnic today.

Or maybe the spot has been there for a while, and I just haven’t noticed. Maybe the only reason I notice the little white circle now is because I’ve been staring at my lap ever since I sat down in the front pew.

If I were wearing black tights, like Mom told me to, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the spot just between my big toe and my second. But when I searched my room earlier this morning, every pair I owned seemed to be ripped, or covered in Boomer hair.

We didn’t have time to run to the store to buy a new pair. I know because Mom said that three times before saying I would just have to go to the church “as is.”

“As is” is an insult when it comes from Mom.

“It’s still warm out,” I reminded her. There’s a whole week left before school starts, after all. “I don’t need tights.”

Just then, Lily came gliding down the stairs, flawless as usual, from her shiny long hair to her own sleek black tights.

Lily is my older sister, in case you didn’t know, which you didn’t, because I’ve only just started the story.

There are two other things you need to know about Lily:

1. She is perfect.

2. She is going to Yale to study English next year, even though technically she has not applied yet, but she will definitely get in (see #1 above).

She stood shoulder to shoulder with Mom. You can tell that Lily is Mom’s daughter, not because they have the same complexion or eyes or hair, but because they are both the same kind of very polished pretty. Lily had spent the hour before locked in the bathroom we share, curling her hair and perfecting her makeup.

I can’t remember the last time I looked at my reflection in a mirror except to get something out of my teeth.

Dad came rushing down a moment later, and I was relieved when Mom pounced on his crooked tie, forgetting all about my tightlessness. Then we were off.

And now here I am, sitting in the church, staring at the white spot on my left foot while the minister talks about God and heaven and angels.