It's cold and dreary and January. Icy rain is plummeting from the gray sky. My entire small town is plagued by a constant chill. It's miserable, but it's home. I'm used to it, but I still regret when I leave my warm bed behind.

My phone buzzes against my leg to wake me up. I've already hit snooze twice. With as much energy as I can muster, I drag myself out of bed. The window is cracked and a cool breeze fills my room. It smells like mountain air. Through my sheer curtains I can see them in the distance. One thing I love about the state of Washington: Its mountains.

I glance in the mirror and smooth my matted hair. I pull on the same sweater I've been wearing all winter break. It's gray, like this morning. I find my jeans next. I pull them on and head to the bathroom I share with my sister.

"Hazel!" I shout through my grogginess. "Wake up."

I peer into the dark room. No movement. Hazel has always been a heavy sleeper.

My fingers fumble over the faucet knob and I let the water gush into the sink. I start brushing my teeth, glancing back into Hazel's room. Maybe the sound of the water will wake her.

I put my toothbrush back in its holder and spot Hazel's makeup case nestled on her side of the sink. I stare at the tube of mascara resting on top. I'm not big on makeup. That's my sister's thing. But it is the first day back to school. Trying won't kill me, right?

I unscrew the mascara top and apply a thin coat to each set of eyelashes. It's not my best work, but at least it helps me look more awake.

"Hazel!" I raise my voice a bit louder. Finally I hear her stir in her bed.

"Ugh. Stop." I hear her quiet voice mumble.

"I'll meet you downstairs in five," I say.

I make one last check in the mirror and am reminded how remarkably ordinary I am. Not ugly, but not pretty. I have the same brown colored hair as Hazel but somehow mine looks the dirt when hers looks like chocolate. Our eyes are the same color too, both light blue. People used to think we were twins when we were younger. Now it's obvious I'm older. Now it's obvious she's the beautiful one.

With one last sigh, I leave the bathroom.

...

"Morning, Quinn." My mother looks up as I enter the kitchen.

"Hey," I mumble.

"Couldn't you have worn a different sweater, honey?" She asks, scolding my outfit choice.

"No one cares what sweater I wear, mom," I groan, rolling my eyes.

I spot the plate of semi-burnt toast sitting on the table. A freshly brewed coffee aroma lingers in the air. It makes my stomach grumble.

"It looks like you picked it up off you floor," my mother sighs.

"That's exactly what I did," I say, shrugging.

"Ok. I'm ready," Hazel grumbles. Her book bag is hanging from her shoulder.

"Let's go." I grab a piece of toast from the plate and turn for the door.

"Enjoy school!" My mother calls after us.

We step into the misty morning and the familiar chill greets me. There's a fresh coat of snow on the ground and ice on my mother's windshield. My dad's car is already missing from the driveway. He always leaves for work before we get up for school.

"I can't believe we have to walk in this," Hazel groans. I roll my eyes at her.

"We always walk to school."

"It's extra shit today." Hazel walks a few paces ahead of me.

"It's like five blocks," I say, rolling my eyes again. If I had a dollar for every time I rolled my eyes at Hazel then I'd have enough money to leave this town.

"Blocks? What do we live in a city?" Hazel asks.

"If we did live in a city, it'd be five blocks. Stop being lazy," I say, pushing past her.

Hazel falls a bit behind me. I listen to the sound of snow crunching beneath our boots. It's always been a calming sound to me.

My footsteps are syncing with their muscle memory. Without even paying attention I am halfway to the end of our street. It dead-ends into a cul-de-sac. Then we take a left to cut through the small nature park, past the old swing set. That leads to a small reservoir pond that we usually circumvent on the side. Our school's blacktop parking lot is just after that.

It's a clear morning and I can almost see the red brick building through the trees. I used to hate walking to school every day. Now it's routine. Well, part of my routine.

Snooze my alarm. Finally force myself to wake up. Drag Hazel out the door. Walk to school. Sit in homeroom. Parade around the hallways. Sit in class. Enjoy my quiet table in the cafeteria. Count down seconds to the bell. Go home. Repeat.

I'm not a total social outcast. I do have some friends. Tara and Levi both share Lit and Chem with me and I have lunch with Tara. We used to have sleepovers all the time in elementary school. We would go everywhere and do everything together. Then she became a cheerleader and with that we became distant. Even after the almost three years I've spent in high school, she's still the closest thing I have to a best friend.

I blame it on our small town. There's only been one new person ever. A boy moved to town with his father and entered our school in first grade. Everyone else has been the same since preschool. Since daycare, even. I've grown up with them. I've known them or at least known of them. To be honest, I'm more of a loner.

"Hurry up. We're gonna be late." Hazel shouts over her shoulder. She's passed me now. Her hair flows out the sides of her hood. I push my own brown hair away from my face, cursing myself for not putting it up.

I try to pick up my pace. We're crossing the uneven terrain surrounding the side of the reservoir. It's not too steep but there is a slight slope and the snow does not make it easier to navigate. The wind picks up and I narrow my eyes to keep them from watering.

"Right behind you!" I shout back. Hazel's silhouette moves farther ahead of me.

We're halfway around the reservoir. The brick wall looms closer. School for the next 7 hours. Joy.

I keep my head down, staring at my feet, and burying my face in my scarf. A gust of bitter cold wind hits me from the side and my right foot tumbles beneath me. I fall forward and sideways and barely have time to shout before my body crashes through the cracked reservoir and plunges into icy water.

It hits me like knives, piercing. Freezing. My lungs gulp and fill with the briny water. It fills my chest like a balloon about to burst.

My mind goes blank. My limbs feel like heavy weights attached to my body; they're impossible to move. I'm suspended. My eyes flicker open and closed as the light from above the surface moves further out of view. I am sinking. I am dying.

My throat constricts and then releases and the last thing I feel is a tug on my left arm. At least, I think I feel something. But I can't be sure it's even real.

I can't be sure anything is real.

Not anymore.