Everyone has been pretty much spending the nights at my house. Newt, Minho, Eli, Brenda, and today, Teresa finally arrived. She doesn't look better than any of us.

Newt and I share in my bed, Minho claimed Lelia's and the rest says they're fine with the couch or air mattresses.

We're discussing Lelia and Thomas's disappearance for the millionth time, when we get distracted by Dad's phone.

He went to do some groceries along with Mom and as far as I know, they only brought her phone.

I pick it up, though. You never know.

"Hi," a male greets. "Is this Sebastian Blake?"

"His son," I say nervously.

"Is your father at home?"

"Not right now. Can I... do I tell him something?"

"Your sister was missing, right?"

My eyes jump wider open. Was missing. "Yes. Lelia Blake."

"Right. We found someone close to your descriptions," he tells me.

Relief floods over me. I don't know what to say. The feeling is so intense that I nearly drop to my knees as my eyes get watery. Fear and guilt gets carried away with every deep breath I take.

"That's awesome," I say. "Where do we pick her up? Is she okay? Is Thomas, the boy, there?"

I feel everyone's eyes on me, then focus back on the man's voice. "Well, uhm— I think I misquoted it," he says. "My apologies. We did find someone close to your descriptions. I was calling to let your father know we need someone to identify the body."

For a moment, I don't understand.

The relief shatters into an icy, crushing feeling in my chest. Again, I can't speak. I can't breathe. I can't think.

My legs buckle for real this time, and I collapse into the chair behind me. With my blurred vision, I look around. Into the world that now feels empty and cruel.

I clutch the phone tighter in my hand. "The body?" I choke out. "As in...?"

I can't finish the question. I refuse to become aware of what I already know.

"We found a body near a river," he explains. "A blonde girl, around the age of eighteen. Is there anyone close to you, kid?" Then he adds, muttering to himself, "Should've waited before telling him that."

"My friends," I say, inhaling sharply. I can't cry just yet. It doesn't have to be Lili. "My parents will be— they'll be there in a second."

"Okay, that's good. Keep me on the phone until they arrive," he says.

My hand is shaking so badly that Newt takes over the phone before it drops.

☀︎︎

Dad and Amina rushed to identify the body the second I told them about the call. I wanted to come with them so badly, but Dad insisted I stayed with Newt, so now we're waiting, anxious.

The front door opens with a click. I'm the first to run up to it. Amina's cheeks are stained with tears and Dad looks upset. Yet before I can lose hope, Newt asks the result.

"It wasn't her," he cries out, welcoming me with a tight hug. "It's not Lelia, Lyndon. It's not."

His tears wet my shoulder for the first time... ever. I don't think I've seen Dad cry before. But that's not the point— it's not her.

I start crying, too. And even harder when Amina also joins our hug. Then we stand there for a while. No one bothers us. I try not to think about where Lelia would be. For now, I appreciate it wasn't here.

After we apart, we enter the living room. No one seems to really have moved after the door opened. I don't know if they heard Dad saying it's not Lelia, but by the looks of their faces, they did hear us crying.

"It's not her." Dad rubs his eyelids. He manages a smile through his tears. "It's not my daughter."

I can feel the relief of everyone— "Where's Minho?" A frown appears on my face.

"He went upstairs as your parents identified the body," Eli says. "We left him alone."

"I think he should hear the good news," I mutter, already walking up the stairs so no one can interrupt.

"Minho?" I knock on Lelia's door.

With a sigh, I walk out of my room and straight into hers. "Would you put the volume down? I'm trying to paint. Thank you."

A muffled 'yes' at the other side.

Bothered by my presence, she looks up. There's rollers in her hair again. And she dyed the strands. Secretly, as if Mom isn't gonna see it when she shows up downstairs. "No," and turns back to rolling the things in her hair.

"Would you open up? Please?"

"Please?" I add. It's annoying to paint while she's listening to what I'll gladly call the most horrible music taste in the world— one second, it's rappers, and then it's as if her room is a club. So loud and disturbing. "I need to focus."

"I have good news," I add.

"They found them?"

"No—"

"Not very good news to me, then."

"So do I," she says, finishing a black strand off with a clip. Those plain brown eyes aren't even paying attention to me. "Also, you just got paint on my door."

I stare at the smudges of blue, swallowing.

"I'll clean it up," I promise. "If you—"

I never cleaned it up. "They identified the body and it's not Lelia," I announce. "That's good, Minho."

"I know."

"Would you please open up?"

Sighing, the door opens. "Happy now?" He asks, eyes red and a bit puffy.

With a final sigh, she turns the volume down. "Happy now?"

"Uh, yeah," I stammer. I don't know what I expected from Minho, but not this.

A smile forms on my face. "Very. Thanks!" And I got back to work.

"Are you okay?" I slowly ask. Of course he's not okay, you idiot—

"I just really miss them," he says. I can tell by his voice it takes everything not to break down midway through his sentence.

"I know. Me, too." I step inside the room. "Wish I had a way to fix it."

"You tell me something nice about Lelia and I tell you something nice about Thomas."

I tilt my head to the side, thinking. "Okay. Eh... every year, she made Christmas cards for the neighborhood. Also for the man that lives across from us, even though she was afraid of his grumpy dog."

"Every year?" He chuckles a bit.

"Yeah, except for last year." I smile. "She was covered in glitter and glue."

"Thomas always took every object his dad—Asher—threw away apart. He wanted to see how they worked. Even made a robot of one thing, even though it didn't work. He was very proud."

My smile brightens. "Lelia was convinced we had fairies in our garden. Every night, she'd lie food down for them. I felt really bad when I saw Dad eating them, until he told me the fairies did not exist and Lelia would disappointed if he didn't eat it."

"Thomas and I used to built huts in trees. My mom got really afraid we'd fall. We didn't care. Then Thomas actually fell and broke his arm. But even with his arm injured, he handed me the wood to continue building. With one hand, of course."

And just like that, we share hundreds of memories. Plenty of time has passed by the time we return downstairs.