Page 1 of If Anything Happens To Me

I hadn’t visited my sister in thirty days, but today was June 9, and I always showed up on the ninth of the month.

I felt guilty for staying away so long. To make it up to her, I packed a basket of wild strawberries into my backpack, picked a bouquet of sweet peas—her favorites—and headed out.

It was late afternoon, and a steady breeze had picked up. It made me think of sailing. Eloise and I should have been on a boat, feeling the breeze in our hair. We should have been taking this picnic to Dauntless Island instead of having it in the woods where I was meeting her.

I walked through town. We live in Black Hall, one of those postcard-pretty New England villages with sea captains’ houses, rose gardens, and white picket fences. Stately maple trees lined the streets. The deep yellow sunlight burnished everything, made the town even more beautiful. I passed our high school. As of yesterday, we were out for summer vacation, so no one was there. In September I’d be a junior. And Eloise was just one year behind.

I wished I’d left earlier in the day, but honestly, I’d been finding reasons not to leave the house. I wanted to see her, but I also didn’t.

Eloise would be disappointed. She could read my mind, and I could read hers. She’d be hurt that I only came to see her once a month. She would have preferred it be more often; she would have liked it to be every day. I could hear her voice, predict what she would say when I stood in front of her.

Seriously, Oli? Where have you been?I could see her little frown, her furrowed brow, the familiar expression she wore when she was frustrated.

You know, I’ve been busy, I would reply.

Doing what?

Um . . .

Exactly—um. Come on, Oli!

You should know better than anyone, Eloise. We’re . . .

TGWTMR, she would say, her expression softening, a smile entering her voice.

Yep. The Girls With Too Much Responsibility, I would say, and we would crack up laughing, and everything would be okay again.

Our grandmother used to tell us: “You’ll have many friends in life, but only one sister.” And she was right—I felt it in my bones, that I would never love anyone as much as Eloise.

People sometimes thought we were twins at first glance, because we were the same height and had similar features. But Eloise’s hair was blonde, and mine was more reddish in color. And while my eyes were blue, Eloise’s were hazel—the same color of the green leaves overhead, touched by the magical late-day golden light.

You can trust the universe, Eloise liked to say.

In response, I’d give her my best skeptical raised eyebrow. “You sound like Dr. Hirsch,” I’d say. Dr. Hirsch was the therapist we used to see.

“Well, she’s right!” Eloise would insist. My sister was sunshine and optimism, and she believed that everything worked out in the end. I was shadows and hesitation, with a hard shell. This was the best way—protect myself from ever getting hurt, let things roll off my back.

Our parents had died when we were very young, so long ago that only I remembered them—Eloise didn’t at all. But I knew shefelttheir leaving—the emptiness that filled our house after they were gone. So it made perfect sense, our need to hold tight to each other.

I reached the arched stone bridge that led from Main Street onto a footpath into the Braided Woods, and my whole body tensed. In spite of the almost-summer air, the temperature seemed to drop, coating me with frost.

Eloise and I would come here to go birding, either just the two of us or with our nature club from school. We had been avid birders since we were little. These woods were the perfect place to see migrating warblers each spring and fall, to listen for barred and great horned owls at dusk and search for their pellets in daylight, to spot red-tailed hawks hiding in the foliage as they watched for prey.

We had actually come to these woods with our nature club the morning of October 9: the same day it happened. Later that day, Eloise had disappeared.

Exactly eight months ago.

My sister had been gone that long.

We told each other that we were best friends, not just sisters, and that we would always stay close. We would probably go to the same college. Definitely live in the same town after graduation. It was our promise, and she had broken hers. I knew it wasn’t fair of me to feel that way—she hadn’t meant to go away forever. It wasn’t her fault.

But the fact was, she wasn’t here with me anymore. The bestIcould do to keep my vow was to stay true to the ninth. Every month since October 9, rain or snow or shine, I’d been there.

November 9

December 9

January 9

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