Thora sighs. Half the time she wishes she could launch her brother into space. The other half, she wishes he wasn’t so distant. It’s strange to think how little would have had to change for him not to be here at all: two seconds on a wet road eight years ago, the crash that killed Santi’s birth family and the version of Thora that was an only child. She remembers what she used to be like: lonely, yes, but self-sufficient, good at being on her own. Now she’s dependent on this uncommunicative lump for entertainment.

“This is boring,” she complains.

“Boredom is the sign of a tiny mind,” Santi says without opening his eyes.

She flicks sand at him until he flinches. “Want to play pirates?”

He opens his eyes just long enough to roll them. “We’re not twelve anymore.”

It stings. She never wanted them to grow out of their old game. She doesn’t really believe he has. He just knows what fourteen-year-old boys are supposed to like. Cars, and girls, and fighting: not playing at exploring the high seas with their sisters. He didn’t even want to come with her today. He only agreed because he didn’t want to stay home to listen to their parents argue.

Thora stares back out at the water, remembering the blue world beneath. Muted sound and ripples of light, and the feeling of a truth hidden down there if she searched long enough. “Why won’t you let me swim past the barrier?”

“It’s dangerous,” Santi mumbles. “There are signs. You can read, can’t you?”

“No,” Thora retorts.

Santi opens one eye to peer at the book in her hands. She turns it surreptitiously until it’s upside down. He half-smiles, but shakes his head.

Thora won’t let it go. “Since when do you care about signs? There were signs all over the lighthouse in Ehrenfeld, but you still went ahead and climbed it.”

Santi sits up, brushing sand off his back. “That was different.”

“Why?”

“The lighthouse was actually worth exploring.”

Thora snorts. “You told me there was nothing in there. It was just an empty shell.”

“There still could have been. I can tell you now, there’s nothing in this lake except pee and old cans.”

“You don’t know that if you haven’t explored it.” He’s doing what she hates, pretending to know better. “Why do you have to be so—big-brothery about it?”

“I am your big brother.”