That’s Roxy fucking Raines!!! Holy shit could she be out there? Did CAP find her?

They might find her, but it won’t be me who tells them where to look. Even if they knew exactly where she was, or traced the route from the boat, if I had to guess, there won’t be anything to find for much longer. I think sadly of time, aware of its passing, seconds trickling down my back.

I look sadly to Dad, thinking of what I’m going to have to do. What are the words? There seems like there should be a different language for confessions. The impossible sun beats down, heavy and accusatory, trembling from a hundred million miles away.

I’m led inside to the covered area where people wait for the ferry and I’m helped down on to a bench. A paramedic shines a little torch into my eyes.

I glance upwards. In the corner of the room, a small mounted television plays the news; I recognize the station as the county’s local. They’re talking about Ellis and me.

A picture of the two of us flashes on the screen.

I remember this being taken, though I never saw the picture – Peyton took it, the night at the beach.

I lift myself slowly from the bench – I feel the paramedic reach for me – and move towards the static.

Ellis is grinning with his teeth. I’m smirking, lips are pursed tight, eyes directed slightly above the lens of the camera at Peyton. Above the two of us there’s the neon glow of the boardwalk, blurry with movement. Just behind the lens, I know, is the ocean. I see her, now. With my stiff hand I run my fingers gently over my own palm, and that is the truth, and then over the notched skin on my lips, and that is the truth. There she is. My heart beats in my name’s language, mo-na, mo-na, mo-na.

I recognize her so well that my body falls from under me as if it was never there at all.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Acknowledgements

Richard Pike, for taking such good care of me and the stories. Sara Jafari, an editor endlessly clever, attentive and encouraging. I can’t explain what an honor it is to sit among Penguin’s authors; never were there better hands. I’m grateful for contributions by the entire team, notably Stephanie Barrett’s careful eye; Alice Todd’s incredible cover design; and Alesha Bonser and Harriet Venn’s advocacy. Holly Jackson. Bertie Gilbert. Holly Harris. Nathan Singleton. Kathy Zagar. It doesn’t escape me how fortunate I am to be surrounded by so many creative and interesting people; stars, stars, stars. Always my parents, for whom my love is sometimes shy but unrelenting.

AUTHOR INTERVIEW

Author Interview

Did anything inspire the story of The Things We Don’t See?