Chapter One – Enter the Vortex

March 28, 2013

"Get my good side, Chlo!"

"You don't have a good side. You're a ginger."

"That just means she doesn't have a soul, not that she's not hot. She has my genes after all."

"Are we taking this damn picture or not?"

"Make us beautiful!"

The flash from Rachel's phone camera would have blinded me if the gym hadn't already been filled with epilepsy-inducing strobe lights, but it seemed to be enough to send my older sister in a bit of a daze. I slipped out from under her arm to grab her phone from her blue-haired punk friend Chloe.

"Dude, you've got some serious drunk eyes," Chloe laughed at my expense. I shoved her away and tried to focus my slightly spinning gaze on the photo. Of course I looked drunk; Chloe had practically poured shots down my throat when the three of us met up in Rachel's room for our usual pre-game. And equally unsurprising, Rachel looked like a damn model – no smile, just her signature smirk.

"Can you smile with some goddamn teeth? You use whitening strips for a reason, dork."

As I tried to hand the phone back to Rachel I suddenly found myself with a face full of blonde hair. She had scooped me up into a bone crushing hug that made me stumble backwards a few steps, narrowly missing Chloe. "Dude, what-"

"God Riley, I love you so much."

I could usually chalk up her burst of affection to some sort of intoxication, but I truly couldn't remember the last time either of us had said we loved each other. I heard Chloe holler some suggestive comment at us before she strolled away, presumably finding us boring and needing to seek out someone else to harass. Rachel finally pulled away from me. Her eyes were bloodshot. Had she been crying or was she just drunk and/or high?

"You know I'll always be with you, right?" she was almost screaming over the loud music of DJ Irish Bacon, but the noise of the room seemed to fade away as she spoke, "No matter what happens, you're my baby sister. You're the most important person in the world-"

I held up my hand to stop her and turned toward the direction of the spiked punch bowl surrounded by red solo cups. "If we're getting into all this mushy shit I'm gonna need another drink," I was still slurring, but felt myself coming down from my drunken high. Before I could get too far Rachel yanked me back toward her and cupped my face in her hands.

"I need you to hear this," the intensity in her face and voice made my heart pound, "I love you. And I've always got your back. Cradle to grave, remember?"

I couldn't think straight to determine where the hell this love fest was coming from. Wanting to ease her mind from whatever had her so anxious, I held up right hand with my pinky finger extended and repeated her words, "Cradle to grave."

She hooked her pinky with mine, holding it for a moment before giving me a light shove toward the refreshment table. Seeming to be back to her normal snarky self she ordered, "Go get that drink now before Chloe finishes off the whole punch bowl."

I happily obliged, saluting her and trotting off toward our blue haired friend who had picked up the half full bowl from the table and looked like she was about the chug the whole damn thing. Two of Rachel's other friends, some typical stoner skaters by the names of Justin and Trevor, were egging her on like frat brothers at a keg party. Realizing I had left my phone in Rachel's room, I spun around to try to ask for hers, but she was gone from the spot I'd left her.

She was heading out the door with Nathan Prescott instead.

October 7, 2013

A month into our chemistry lab together, my partner Courtney and I had developed the perfect buddy system: she did the experiments, I did the write ups, and I kept my mouth shut about her using the rest of the time to finish Victoria Chase's various assignments. Keeping my mouth shut also forbade me from asking questions concerning what Victoria had for breakfast since Courtney had shoved herself so far up our resident queen bee's ass.

My silence also kept me on the Vortex Club VIP list. Yippee.

"So if you make this next theme Halloween, what are you going to do for the rest of the month?" I asked primarily to fill some silence, but also to satisfy a fraction of curiosity. I was so used to her side-eying me it actually took me a solid ten seconds to notice her sustained glare. Girl reminded me of a Pomeranian; tiny and prissy and proper looking but all bark and no bite. Returning to out lab report, I mumbled, "Valid question."

She heaved an overly dramatic sigh, "Every week of October will be a different Halloween related theme. We can't have just one generic, boring Halloween party, now can we?"

The bitter bite in her voice told me all. I ragged on her plenty, but I truly felt for the girl. Victoria used and abused her more than anyone in her clique. Courtney was behind most of the intricate setups of almost every Vortex Club soiree and never got an ounce of credit.

"Well, you know I'll need you to dress me no matter what or I'll just show up with no pants a la Risky Business every Friday," I caught the corner of her lips twitch and nudged her a few times, "You're smiling like you think I'm joking."

She batted my hand away. This time her glare was accompanied by a smirk, "Keep being a pain in the ass and I might just let you."

The class bell rang through the PA system. Courtney spare me a hesitant glance in the midst of frantically packing up her things to meet up with the rest of her posse. I assured her I'd get our write-up turned in and sent her on her way. At the front of the class, Ms. Grant announced that she would only allow us stragglers to stay five extra minutes and to turn in whatever we had finished. I took about three before giving up.

The hallways were bustling as usual. Unless it was a Friday, students tended to linger around after class until the cafeteria opened for dinner. As I pulled my phone out of my bag to provide myself a shield from socializing, a heavy arm slung itself around my shoulders.

"Justin," I started without having to even look at the shaggy blond skater boy, "I could smell you from down the hall."

Justin's voice reminded me of a California surfer hippie, "Dude. I just talked to Dana."

I laughed and swung my arm down and around his waist, giving him a playful squeeze, "I told you she's not scary!"

"Nah man," he drawled, "I still need you to hook a brother up."

I ducked out from our little embrace and hollered over my shoulder as I continued on my merry way, "You got this, Romeo. I have faith in you."

Because I was a creature of habit, I had my phone whipped out as I made my way to the girls' bathroom. And as always, I lingered on my lock screen for a moment. I set my background to the last photo I had of my sister Rachel and me, taken the night before she disappeared. The last message sent from her phone was to me, containing that photo.

I was just about to reach out for the bathroom door handle when I suddenly felt a sharp ringing in my ears, sharp enough for my hands to fly up to cover them and my knees to nearly buckle out from underneath me. My phone fell soundlessly to the ground. I made to crouch down and grab it, but the whole floor had become a giant blur, making it impossible to discern between a piece of trash, soda can, or the phone. Standing up straight was a feat of its own. I felt like I was moving through water, almost swaying on my feet. Was everyone else seeing this happen?

I couldn't tell. Everything and everybody in the hallways were blurry, frozen shapes. The ringing sound turned into multiple unrecognizable voices speaking gibberish.

Then I heard what sounded like a gunshot, muffled as if underwater.

And then everything snapped back to normal.

The world around me cleared up in an instant. Everybody was going about their business exactly where I left them. Juliet Watson and Zachary Higgins were having their same awkward conversation about Juliet sending him nudes. Hayden Jones was still hovering over one of the bulletin boards behind me. The same random people I never cared to put names with faces were walking the same merry paths they were before my little episode. That couldn't have been a gunshot I heard. Everyone was being too…normal.

My phone was even in my hand. I felt like I could throw up.

"Problem, Miss Amber?"

Shit. Blackwell's head of security David Madsen was standing next to me, arms folded over his chest and familiar scowl hooding his dark eyes. His face softened just a fraction when I turned to face him. I must have been pale as a ghost, but I was still the trifecta of a problem kid in his eyes: entitled Blackwell brat, Rachel Amber's sister, and (sort of) friend of his stepdaughter Chloe Price. I got some sympathy from him via what I've coined Missing Sister Points, but he would never trust me any more and maybe even trusted me a little less than any other student here.

"Is there a-"

"No I'm fine," my voice came out just above a whisper, "I'm just…dizzy."

Before he could berate me I was saved by the bell. Well, it wasn't a bell so much as the fire alarm. I wasted no time in following the mass rush outside, greedily gulping a lungful of fresh autumn air. I stood at the foot of the stone steps as people continued to race around me, trying to get as far away from the potentially burning building as possible. I stood there, briefing lolling my head back and looking up toward the sky before rolling it over one shoulder and looking downward. I jolted when I realized where I was standing – right on top of one of my big sister's missing person's posters.