PROLOGUE

Who Has Seen The Wind?

Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling,

The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads,

The wind is passing by.

-Christina Rossetti

CHAPTER 1: Ready

W. Kiera Crow

"Look. Whale."

"Not a whale and you know it."

"No shit Sherlock."

We sat under the fisherman statue, reclined against the base. Apathetically, I bypassed Aydyn's retort. My mind was preoccupied. All day it had been busy with worry each time I thought about…

"The track meet?"(1) Aydyn rolled his grey eyes. "Kiera come on! You're not still nervous about that stupid girl ranked ahead of you?"(2)

I didn't answer. Instead, my eyes rested on Aydyn's fake whale. The ocean by Gloucester, Massachusetts was never calm but today it heaved angrily. I knew that Aydyn pretended to see a whale to distract me. Make me feel better. But seriously. A whale so close to shore-that was just ridiculous. The low frequency sound waves emitted from boat propellers would be as helpful to a whale as a meat grinder. Duh. (3)

Still... I wasn't so sure that the ocean was exclusively choppy waves. It did look like there was something else out there. Squinting, I tried to space out the waves slinking above and below the shadowy surface.

Just waves. Nothing else…right? For some reason I started to feel nauseous again. Was it the meet? It had to be.

"I have a right to be nervous, " I said, frowning at the ocean, "That girl ranked ahead of me practically overnight. She must be fast. You would be nervous too."

Aydyn laughed out loud, "Fat chance of that. If I was good at you-and I am-I'd throw a pre-race victory party."

It was my turn to be cocky, "You're not as good as me."

"Easy there Princess."

"Bet?"

"How much?"

"How much you got?"

"Race for ice cream. And toppings."

I scrunched my nose.

"Bloody God, really Kiera? Really?"

Challengingly, I raised both eyebrows..

"Fine." Disgustingly, Aydyn shouldered his backpack and grabbed my Nike duffle. "Low fat ice cream. Kill-joy."

And with a sling shot motion, Aydyn pitched my duffle bag, turned, and sprinted down Stacey Boulevard.

I smiled. He was so dead.

Kiera's Footnotes

(1) This would have ideally been my turn for the "No shit Sherlock" comeback. But I was way to nervous to argue. It was one of those days where you just want to go with the flow.

(2) And again….see footnote 1.

(3) Ok…so you probably figured out I'm a physics geek. What can I say, it happens to the best of us. Regardless, I wasn't dishing out bull; low frequency sound waves generated by boat propellers are identical to the low frequency sound waves some whales use for communication. Whales have difficulty distinguishing between these natural and anthropogenic frequencies, so a lot of times they collide with boats. Plus, the incessant noise is just annoying.

Aydyn Owl

I was so dead. (4)

Even with my brilliant diversion I knew it was only a matter of time before that cheetah in Sauconies would be hot on my heels. Regardless, I charged onward, barreling pass the tourists, local fishermen, and seagulls.

I realize ice cream may be a juvenile bet and it's probably more juvenile that I take it so seriously. But I just can't help it. The second Kiera's bag vaulted off the statue, my brain clicked into military mode. Survive and win. Well, "preferably win" in this case. Kiera was fast. What do I mean by fast? Try "four time state champion" fast.

But bloody…if I lost this race…the consequences! Low fat ice cream! Kill me now.

With that horrible thought in mind, I bounded off the sidewalk and crossed onto Western Ave. "Judges love pedestrians!" I yelled, sprinting through traffic.

About a million horns went off and a white mini-van nearly ran me over. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some dude in a rasta hat raise his fist and….was he actually bleating at me? Bloody. It's like no one ever heard of a cross walk before (despite the DO NOT WALK sign). Important part was though, I had bought some time.

A second flare of horns disproved my calculations. Breathing hard, I looked over my shoulder. There she was-dodging the same white mini-van, her bleach blond hair streaming like flames. And yeah…the rasta cap dude was still bleating.

Damn it. Growling, I picked it up a notch, pumping my arms and kicking back my legs. But I could almost feel Kiera smiling at my back. It was two miles to the ice cream place. We both knew she'd catch me. What can I say: Kiera was just a runner. She always had been. She always had been…

Aydyn's Footnotes

(4) Yup. Dead. But what the Hell, I love a good competition. If there was more than one route, I could definitely win: it's all about strategy. For instance, how'd you like my plan of attack back there at statue? Nice, right? Right? All right…was it cheating? Yeah. Was it cheap? Absolutely. Would I do it again? Probably not-but only because the novelty has worn off..

So boo-hoo, I expected the loss. But that's not why I'm writing down here. My real reason is to articulate how stupid I think these footnotes are. Kiera will put down her little two cents and that's fine: just don't expect me to. Unlike Miss. Crow, I actually say what I think. So…no more footnotes. From now on, I'm going to say it loud and say it proud.

...Flashback...

"SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"Aydyn—"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Savagely, the boy ripped his arm from the stranger's iron grip, "YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER!"

"Aydyn," the stranger's face was chiseled, unfeeling like carved stone. Aydyn shook his head. The man was lying! He must be! But it was harder and harder for Aydyn to convince himself as he stared into the cold eyes.

Again, the man step forward. He was a mountain with muscles like boulders. But Aydyn did not move. He would not give in to this liar! "Aydyn," the man repeated, voice so deep it was mesmerizing, "Stop this right now."

Jutting out his chin, Aydyn matched the man's gaze. Evenly, the huge man knelt so he was actually at eye level with the eleven-year-old. Aydyn started to tremble, but not because the man intimidated him; it was because the woman in the corner had started to cry into the shoulder of the little blonde girl on her lap. Why was she crying? This man was lying! Didn't she realize that?

"Mom-"Aydyn couldn't hide the tremor in his voice. He clenched both fists. "Mom…he's ly-"

"Keegan was my brother. I am not lying."

"YES YOU ARE! NOW GO!"

Aydyn's head was exploding. "GO! GO! GO!" And he hit the man. Slashing out and screaming at the top of his lungs. Every last inch of anger Aydyn propelled through his fist and into the man's face.

Aydyn connected, heard a crack, and felt heat pour over his fingers.

Your father is dead.

Someone was shouting his name, telling him to stop but Aydyn felt like he was underwater.

Your father is dead.

A blur of black, as if both eyes had rolled back inside of their sockets.

Your father is dead.

Two stony eyes, flaring dangerously. A raised fist. But it didn't matter. All Aydyn wanted was to hurt him…it was the only way to stop the pain. Make it all untrue.

Your father is dead.

Running away. Screaming. Collapsing on the sand. Stumbling upright. Running. Screaming. Begging.

The winter night attacked him with unforgiving cold. Tears froze to his cheeks. His bare hands burned raw. But Aydyn kept running. He screamed so loud, it was a long time before he heard the girl behind him.

"Wait! Aydyn! Wait!"

Kiera. He didn't bother turning. "Go Away!"

"Wait!"

He ran faster. Faster. Faster.

"Aydyn!"

He screamed, but this time because the tiny, blonde girl vaporized before him, both hands outstretched. Aydyn swerved. Kiera grabbed his shirt. Both children stumbled down a snowy dune. They rolled onto wet sand before thudding to a stop. Neither spoke. Neither moved. They just stared at the black, lifeless sky as the ocean sprayed them.

Then, Aydyn shivered. Uncontrollably. Shaking like a bag of bones, he turned. His cheek prickled against the cold sand as Kiera shifted to look into his stormy eyes. She was still clutching his collar.

Utterly hopeless and alone, Aydyn breathed, "I want my Dad."

Kiera stood, releasing him. There was nothing she could say. There was nothing she could do. Only…she could only be here and let him….

"I want my Dad. I want my Dad. I WANT MY DAD! PLEASE! DAD! DAD! DAD!"

It didn't matter how loud Aydyn screamed. The wind ripped the cries from his throat, howling with laughter.

Aydyn Owl

There had to be another way to cheat! Think! Think! Think! Ok…thinking was clearly not working. What I needed another diversion. Like a locomotive, or a Siberian tiger, or girl-eating ninjas!

But since those basic commodities were not altogether common in Gloucester and Kiera was breathing down my neck, I decided to be a good sport and let her win; gracefully. Like a gentlemen.

Ha! No freaking way!

Instead, I opted for the classic stick-my-foot-out-routine to gracefully trip my half sister. (5)

"Take that Pocahontas! Oh crap—"

It was like the girl had trampolines surgically implanted in her feet! With the nimbleness of a gazelle, Kiera leapt over my outstretched leg and breezed by.

"Yeah that's right!" I yelled, hands reaching for my knees, "Keep running Princess! Bloody…" blinking at the sweat pooling at the corners of my eyes, I trod off after her, "…good thing I taught her everything she knows."

Aydyn's Footnotes

(5) Ok, ok, ok, I'll eat my words here is another footnote. Sue me. But did I forget to mention Kiera and I are half-siblings? Well…technically…mostly…sort of…kinda…at heart…well you'll get the gist soon enough. Now go back to mwa brilliant scheme to win!

W. Kiera Crow

The truth is, Aydyn taught me everything I know-about running. Well, running competitively that is. I could run for hours by myself, but Aydyn put 'pep in my step.' I would never admit that to his face, but truth be told, the boy was a brilliant stagiest. Endurance is your strength, so get out fast at the gun for placing. Sprint when I tell you to, not before. Don't wear high heels with that dress-you're calves will kill tomorrow! Fish tonight? I don't think so; pasta before a race, smoothie in the morning. Get sleep two days before the meet. Test tomorrow? Ok Sleeping Beauty, skip the morning periods and take a half day. (6)

Seem a little like the George Patton incarnate? Try Attila the Hun. Aydyn loved to win, but he hated to loose more. For instance, last spring Aydyn quit throwing javelin, joined the track coaching staff, and nearly got the team kicked out of the Penn Relays when he attacked the timer for "suspiciously" loading the start gun.

"Caps, Aydyn!"Coach McGregor had yelled, crumpling the restraining order in his hands, "Harmless caps!"

"Well those 'caps' looked like bullets!" Aydyn retorted, "The whole thing was suspect! He's lucky I didn't call the cops-"

"You're lucky I don't call the cops!"

Oh yes…Aydyn Erichthonius (7) Owl was a commando freak from way back. In sixth grade he won the egg toss at East Gloucester Elementary and the East Coast Collegiate Chess Championship. Two years later, Aydyn was champion at the United States Armed Forces Cribbage Tournament. (8)

Needless to say, it felt awesome to kick Aydyn's butt and watch him choke down sugar-free ice-cream. Glaring sideways through the dripping cone, Aydyn smacked his lips distastefully. "Well," he said, sourly regarding the cone, "at least it resembles cotton candy ice cream. Agch! I lied. Oh great-."

Across the street, a flock of girls erupted into giggles as Aydyn's cone fell onto his chest.

"Bloody!" Aydyn, pretending to be deeply upset, flipped off the stained shirt. Carefully monitoring his admirers, he punched me in the shoulder, "I bought this shirt at the Great Big Sea concert!" Good-naturedly, Aydyn hit me again, "I blame you for this."

Brilliant. The boy was brilliant. After fixing him with my best 'are-you-serious' glare, I glanced over at Giggle Central. As I expected; not so giggly anymore. Sure, they were still salivating over Aydyn's six-pack; but now I had become a threat assessment. Aydyn knew this. It was custom strategy:

1.) Spill the gross sugar free ice cream on shirt.

2.) Oh no pink stain on valuable 95% cotton, 5% polyester fabric! Emergency. Better strip.

3.) Nonchalantly flash sculpted body to the Aydyn Owl Fan Club.

4.) Locate nearest platonic female friend (aka Kiera Crow) .

5.) Physically interact with platonic female friend (again Miss. W.K. Crow) to make fan club jealous.

6.) Prep cell phone Add Contacts app.

The sick part of all of this was that it worked. And very well. Already, two heiresses had entered the cross walk. They were whispering through enormous grins and stroking identical pin-strait haircuts.

However exhilarating it would have been to stand awkwardly and watch Aydyn flirt with Bimbo One and Bimbo Two, I decided to suspend that pleasure for another time.

"Hey, hey, hey there Princess! Where are you going?"

"Meet tomorrow."

"Kiera," Aydyn wined good-naturedly. "Five minutes."

I kept walking. "Meet tomorrow Aydyn. Sleep. Remember, Mon Captain?"

"Hey!" Adydn threw out his hands, defensively, "I just need five! Or at least until you finished that delectable looking low-fat coffee-flavored (9) ice-"

I stopped long enough for a pained look.

Taking advantage of my pause, Aydyn flashed a smile at the girls. Coaxing me about-face, he leaned close, "Kiera…they're blondes (10) !"

I chanced a look over my shoulder. Couldn't really argue-they were all blondes. They were also the kind of girls that would try to cook you with their hair-straighteners. I should know: the one named Linda tried to kill me everyday in the locker room after gym class. (11)Judging by the way she was clicking those hot-magenta designer heels, it looked as if Linda was contemplating murder again.

Linda also happened to be on the track team. But she was a sprinter. My stomach clenched. Sprinters; the dark side of running. Girls who wanted to wear the spanks-uniform with as little physical activity possible.

Ok, being partial to cross country, I may have a little chip on my shoulder. But the short distance runners were all the same. You sprint for 100 meters, seventeen seconds, and you are done. Your event was first, so you get the double luxury of (1) fan attention and (2) watching everyone else run for the next seven hours.

Seriously...by the time I started warming up with the distance runners, Linda and the sprinters had already exchanged booty-calls with the other teams' pole vaulters.

I rarely get overworked about silly things-especially when they involve girls and drama-but when it comes to running, I do not hold back. Running was more than my thing. It was…my way…my peace. And for some reason, Linda seemed resolved to make my life on and off the track a living nightmare. Currently Linda was glaring as if she would enjoy nothing more than to drown me in the Atlantic. Inwardly I scoffed. Just for kicks I glared back and with my eyes told her No way in Hell. Then I swear to God….she answered: Exactly.

Kiera's Footnotes

(6) I said he was a brilliant strategist. I never said he was moral.

(7) erekthō'nēus…yes I spelled it right and no I am not kidding, that's his middle name. I remember asking our-er-I mean Aydyn's Dad, why he had such a "silly name." Apparently it was 1.) None of my business 2.) Hypocritical, considering I didn't respond to my actual first name 3.) Chosen by Aydyn's real mother.

(8) I was Aydyn's plus one. And let me tell you those military balls…snazzy.

(9) Ok…I LIKE the way coffee ice cream tastes!

(10) Too easy.

(11) Sorry… "physical education."

Aydyn Ow

Girls are freaking weird. First, none! zip! zero! of those Barbie chicks came over to get my digits. Second, the sexy, albeit dumb-as-rocks, Barbie got into this weird-invisible-laser-eye-battle with Kiera. At first, I thought it was a female code thing. You know, like 'Back off fool he's MY man' or 'Gross-those shoes are totally last season.' Ok cool, girl-fight-staring-contest. My money was on Kiera.

But then I looked at Kiera. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Her black eyes were grotesquely dilated, like a rabid animal. Red spots bubbled down from her ears, staining her white cheeks. I blinked. Kiera's lips were…I think they were turning blue. The strangest thing though-my muscles were tensing.

"Do what you want." Kiera's turned on her heel, "My bag is still at the statue." She crossed traffic without another word. Forcing a smile (Linda returned it behind a cute little finger wave) I followed and quickly caught up.

We walked silently for a while. I'd known Kiera long enough to recognized when she was steamed. It didn't happen often, Kiera was pretty even-keeled, but when she got mad things started to explode. Right now, she was seething-kinda like the hour before the storm. Certainly this was a delicate matter; one ill-timed comment and Kiera would surely blow.

"Glad to see you and Linda are finally getting along."

"Shut up."

"No seriously. It's only a matter of time before she makes you a friendship bracelet or asks to French-braid your hair before the mee—"

"Aydyn I said shut up."

I did shut up. A good general knows when to retreat. A good general can also smell danger afoot. I had a feeling it was more than Linda-Kiera never really bought into the d-r-a-m-a crap so there had to be something else. Meticulously, I took a long look at Kiera to see if I could sniff out the problem.

It wasn't easy. If Kiera were a statute, she would be modern art. Abstract and indefinable. She was every expression and no expression simultaneously. When my father died, we both had to attend counseling. I-er- threatened to stone the psychologist if he asked "How does that make you feel" one more time. But I remember Kiera answering the same question over and over, "I don't know. I don't know." She was a quiet kid and very private. You get the point; the girl was hard to read.

Kiera noticed I was staring. She gave me the 'what' look but I didn't break the gaze. Scanning her open face, I searched for clues. Usually, unbroken eye contact with Kiera freaked people out. She was pretty enough (for a half sister) but her features were very…how do I say this delicately….creepy.

To begin, her skin was white. Not like porcelain doll white. I mean white. As in find your crayolas and dig out the crayon, white. Moreover, her hair was basically white-'titanium blonde'. Puh…whatever. The color wouldn't bother me half as much if her hair wasn't so messy. Literally, Kiera always looked liked she'd just walked out of a blow-drying session on the high seas. It took all of my self control not to attack that mane with spray conditioner and a brush.

Most distracting were her eyes. Black. Big and black. The sharp contrast of pigments had an unnerving effect, sort of like being sucked into a vacuum. Truthfully, I felt chills grip my spine; I mean come on! The chic has vampire eyes! But, that was the secret to reading Kiera. Her really creepy eyes. They say "eyes are windows to the soul." And that was why I was the only person that could read my half sister. No one else was stupid enough to look directly at her.

"You are usually calmer," I said as we rounded the Man at the Wheel statue, "are you panicking or something? It's not Linda? Please tell me it's not Linda. Because I don't think I could bear a girl for a sister. "

Kiera jogged over to her duffle. It was squashed in a public trash bin. Oops.

"No," she answered, unzipping the bag and fishing out her trainers, "definitely not Linda."

"Relief."

"Although," Kiera said, inspecting her shoes in the dimming light, "I think it's safe for you to put your shirt back on now."

I grinned, throwing the shirt at her. "Hey Sis! Ever see a tattoo dance?"

"Don't. Oh no—

"Check it!" I growled, hunching over Kiera and flexing my pectorals. The faded triskielion, imprinted across my shoulder and pec, wiggled as Kiera laughed.

"Stop it, stop it! Ok I'm happy! Aydyn!" I hopped backwards as Kiera swung her shoe at me, "You are nuts!"

"No one," I announced to the sunset, "can resist this piece of meat! Especially when it's stamped with a Celtic knot!" I flexed again for good measure, threw on my shirt, and sped after Kiera. Bloody…this girl could not stay in one place!

"So come on," I coaxed as the street lights flickered on, "what's bugging you?"

"Nothing," Kiera said, fiddling with her laces, "only…I don't know. I feel so on edge. Especially with your girlfriend Linda back there…and at the statue. Don't know why but I thought I was going to punch you for mentioning the bogus whale."

"Um yeah, noticed that. Thanks. Where we going, to pick up Mom?"

Kiera glanced at her watch. "She should be back from the plant by now."

I smiled, deciding not to tell Kiera I'd felt unnaturally hyped all day too. But she seriously needed to chill out if we were going to kick butt tomorrow at the track meet. I would have to relax Kiera before those stomach butterflies ate her alive. Sigh…the job of a leader-and-chief is never done.

But right now, that did not matter. Let her stew.

I could not wait to see Mom.

...FLASHBACK...

"Kiera!"

The blonde girl pumped her legs, flung herself off the swing, and sailed through the air.

"Aydyn!"

The brunet boy looked sharply, sand sifting from his fingers.

"Kiera!"

"Aydyn!"

SMACK.

A tangled mess followed. Both children, too startled to cry, grappled in the sand box. Aydyn was mad because his sand castle was ruined. Kiera was mad because Aydyn decided to hit her with the shovel he used to build the sand castle.

From the sidelines, in flew the parents.

"Easi' noew!" shouted a burly man in a burly voice, "off mi boy! Off mi…Aydyn coom on! It's a bloody Lassie!"

"Whatever is the matter with you!" A slender woman with long, yellow hair and angry blue eyes ducked into the skirmish. A stream of papers fluttered in her wake as she grabbed her daughter, "Kiera! Dear me! Stop! Stop! Both of you stop! This instant! Kiera let go of his hair!"

"Aye stop! Play nice! Bloody-bite 'er Aydyn!"

"Excuse me!" Horrified, Kiera's mother clutched her daughter close as Aydyn struggled against his father's bear hug, "your son-"

"-is goin' to have an early visit from the tooth-elf—"

"—fairy!"

"-BECAUSE," the man staggered forward as Aydyn squirmed, "your little princess here…"Aydyn's father choked, looking at Kiera up-close for the first time. Much of Kiera's face was smothered beneath her mother's arms. Only her eyes were visible, blaring like two black headlights. The bull-like man shivered, but his face was clenched in a grizzly brood.

Aydyn, was not nearly as mystified. He opened his mouth, long enough to finish his father's sentence, "Because that stupid girl killed my fortress!"

Kiera glowered pointedly at the mass of sand, "Some fortress."

"Stupid girl!"

"You talk funny."

"You look funny!"

"You," Aydyn's father said, as the children charged, "are prettier than I though' ye'd be, Mary."

Both children stopped, disgusted. "Ewwwwwww!"

Kiera's mother had the decency to blush, enraged though she was this man's son had ten fingers around her daughter's throat. No doubt Mary Crow was pretty. Her body was long and graceful like a swan's. Every movement and every expression was perfectly choreographed, as if she were a wind-up doll, twirling in a musical jewelry box. Many men had tried to catch her with gooey promises and shiny presents. But Mary was also guarded, a solemn attribute to her beauty.

Thus, it should have been no surprised when Mary wasn't swept off her feet. Retreating slightly, she regarded the large man suspiciously, "How do you know my name?"

Much to Mary's annoyance, the man laughed. Rather, he hacked as the bristles of his beard twitched. Still hacking, the man reached into a coat pocket for a rolled up news paper. Flapping it open, he said, "Twa reasons, Love."

Smacking the front page with the back of his hand, Aydyn's father read aloud, "Science & Tech Column: Dr. Mary W. Crow, pictured belo'…" he winked at Mary before proceeding; "…stands proudly wi' daughter on Gloucester's first offshore wind-turbine station. Crow was the leading physical engineer in the international project…an' it goes on for a wee bit longer," Aydyn's father displayed the paper to Mary, "…but I couldn't get over that cute little—"

"—What did you say your name was?" Mary was frowning at the print.

"Didn't," the man looked extremely proud that she had asked, "but its Keagan. Keagan Owl—"

"This paper is a year old, Keagan Owl." Keagan was still smiling, but it strained under Mary's glare, "Exactly one year old. I finished the wind turbine project last June."

"…I'm…a…fan!" Keagan's smile could not have possibly grown wider without splitting his face in two, "Surprise Mary Crow!"

"Dr. Crow."

"Dr.? All right then…Doc-tor. Ye see I'm a bit o' an engineer mi'self. So...reason number one: shake 'ands wi' a fello' engineer!" All too eagerly, Keagan shoved an open hand at Mary, who regarded it distastefully. Without looking up, she said, "I hope your second reason is better."

Oh," Keagan's tone dropped an octave, "it is. It is." He leaned close. Mary smelled machine grease and the dirty tang made her head fuzzy. Blinking hard, she concentrated on the deep voice in her ear, "I came a long way to find you Dr. Mary Crow."

"Oh really. And why is that?"

A pause. Then, "So I can kill your daughter."

This final comment was the last of the unexpected events of the day. Keagan's cheek was slapped and Mary's hand bruised that night. Keagan pleaded forgiveness, swore, then spanked Aydyn for mimicking. Mary stalked away, dialed 911, and shared a bowl of whipped cream with Kiera. And like all tragic romances, Keagan and Mary spent that night furiously upset and thinking of the other.

Aydyn Owl

"Aydyn. Aydyn."

I snapped from the daydream. Kiera was already walking toward the docks. A motor was gurgling but it was too dark to see the boat. But I was already excited. It had to be Mom.

Fish and seaweed fumes licked the inside of our nostrils as we settled on the dock. Kiera pulled out her shoe and started playing with the laces again. Impatient, I squinted out the harbor, my head bobbing to see pass the rocking masts.

"It's Mom." Kiera tugged at a knot. "I caught her voice."

"No you didn't. How could you possibly?"

"Chill, I did. Maybe the wind carried it or something."

"Maybe."

The motor was purring now, and an oblong shadow was dissolving into view. I smiled but a prickly sensation was quickly growing over my excitement. Something was wrong.

I glanced at Kiera. She had quadruple-knotted both laces.

"Hey Kiera," I said casually, "do you-"

"Yes I feel awful, Aydyn. I just want Mom to get here so we can go home."

I let out air, relieved. I was glad she broke first. Something was definitely screwy around here but I did not want to be the cry-baby. That's what almost-little-half-sisters are for. Now I could play almost-big-half-brother. Kiera always brags how good of a strategist I am. But the truth…

Lifting a knee, I leaned over and wrapped an arm around Kiera's thin shoulders.

….the truth was…I was an even better almost-big-half-brother.

"Don't worry," I rubbed her arm, "Mom will be here soon."

"Sooner than you think, Aydyn."

Kiera and I looked up simultaneously. The motors were silent. The anchor splashed and sunk. It was dark, but her smile was radiant. There stood Mom.

She said, "Come here."

We did and left together.