Chapters (37)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- BEFORE
- AFTER
- ONE THOUGHTS ON SUN HATS
- TWO TIME FOR CAKE
- THREE TWELVE MONTHS
- FOUR PSYCHIC KARAOKE
- FIVE A SECOND SLEEPING BAG
- SIX SIX MONTHS
- SEVEN THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE PANCAKE
- EIGHT SIX MONTHS
- NINE FOLLOW THE MUSIC
- TEN THE STARS ARE BRIGHTER IN THE DESERT
- ELEVEN SIX MONTHS
- TWELVE EVERY STAR HAS A SONG
- THIRTEEN PSYCHIC KARAOKE
- FOURTEEN ONE MONTH
- FIFTEEN A WELL-TRAVELED HAT
- SIXTEEN JOEL VS. THE VOLCANO
- SEVENTEEN TWO WEEKS
- EIGHTEEN HOUSE OF MEMORIES
- NINETEEN IF TREES COULD TALK
- TWENTY THREE DAYS
- TWENTY-ONE SEARCH PARTY
- TWENTY-TWO NOT THE SAME ZADIE
- TWENTY-THREE WAVES OF SMOKE
- TWENTY-FOUR THE DAY OF
- TWENTY-FIVE THE SKY IS FULL OF BIRDS
- TWENTY-SIX NEST
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- EPILOGUE
- TWENTY-EIGHT A SONG ABOUT A BIRD
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Also by Ruth Emmie Lang
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You have a family.”
“I haven’t even said yes yet!” Then, realizing she’d said too much, Finn fell silent.
“Yes to what?”
Finn hesitated for a moment, then said, “Kathy and Steve offered to adopt me.”
Zadie felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. It was a full five seconds before she drew another breath. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I told you. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
“Don’t act like this is easy for me.”
“Isn’t it? I swear, Finn, sometimes you act like Mom’s the only one who left.” Zadie regretted the words the moment she gave them oxygen.
A stunned silence descended on the room. Finn gaped back at her sister with a pained expression. “That’s not fair.”
“Finn, I didn’t mean—”
“I need a minute,” she said, then shouldered past her sister and opened the door. “Don’t follow me.”
Zadie flinched as the door slammed behind her.
Fifteen minutes passed. The pizza Zadie had ordered arrived. She tried eating a slice but discovered she no longer had an appetite. You should eat, the Star seemed to say (the Star got to eat only if she ate), but even the smell of the sausage made her stomach turn, so she closed the box and listened for Finn’s return.
Zadie waited for her sister for another thirty minutes before she decided to go looking for her. She wrapped a piece of pizza in a napkin—a peace offering—and carried it outside. Finn was not in the parking lot. She wasn’t in the car, either. Zadie walked down the road to the beach, waited for her eyes to adjust to the moonlight, and scanned the shore. If her sister was on the beach, she didn’t see her. “Finn!” Zadie’s voice sounded small compared to the roar of the waves. Even if Finn was somewhere in the darkness, she was unlikely to hear her.
Zadie turned around and headed back to the motel. Finn was not in the room when she returned. Pizza grease had soaked through the napkin. Zadie threw it and the slice in the trash, grabbed her keys, and ran to her car.
TWENTY-FOUR THE DAY OF
(NORA WILDER’S DISAPPEARANCE)
“She probably just went out for cigarettes,” Zadie said when their mom had been missing for almost four hours. Never mind that Nora hadn’t smoked in years, but now that it was starting to look like she might not come back, the words had taken on a whole new significance.