APRIL 14TH, 1912

LOTTIE

At Mrs. Ward's estate, there were plenty of things to have nightmares about. First of all, the wardrobe that held mine, Ceci, and Gracie's dresses would creak open in the middle of the night sometimes. It would come alive with a long, loud groan, and I was sure it was a ghost doing it. Absolutely positive. My sisters assured me that it wasn't, that it was simply an old wardrobe with loose doors and rusty hinges, but to this day I'm still not very sure.

And then there was the music box. Mrs. Ward had said it belonged to her daughter who died when she was a baby. Hearing her say that made me sad, and hearing the tinkling, lilting waltz tune made me even sadder. In the daytime, that is. At night, when the music box would play, I would be scared out of my wits.

Sometimes, it would be nothing at all in the waking world that would frighten me. Sometimes, it was my own mind conjuring up awful nightmares about getting lost in the woods behind the manor or falling through the floorboards in the attic after being sent to wash the windows - my most dreaded chore. I'd wake up screaming at times, soaked in sweat, so afraid. But every time, April Grace was right there beside me.

She and I have shared a bed for my entire life. I don't remember a time when I slept without her - I think because that time doesn't exist. When I couldn't fall asleep, she was there. When I woke up from a bad dream, she was there. When I swore the coat rack in the corner was a tall man with square shoulders, staring at me, she was there.

But now, when I wake up because of a loud noise in my dream, she isn't here. I'm alone in a bed that isn't really mine, staring at the rungs of the frame above me that holds Cecelia.

As I wake up further, I start to realize something. I don't think the sound came from my dream at all. I think it came from real life and it's what woke me, because I still hear it. Just for a moment, just long enough to register that something strange is going on. It's a sound I've never heard before, low in pitch and grating, not pleasant at all. I cover my ears until it stops.

Once the cabin is silent again, I should feel soothed, but I don't. I want my sister, but she isn't here.

She's with Jackson; I know that's where she is. I like him very much, I'm looking forward to him becoming part of our family, but I wish he would learn how to share my sister a bit better than he's done so far. He's only known April Grace for a few days, and I've known her for my whole life. It's not fair that, suddenly, he gets all of her.

I've said so much to Cecelia, and she responds with an opposite thought. She says that I've gotten April Grace for five years and now it's time to share her. She says that April Grace and Jackson are in love, and it's the kind of love that doesn't happen every day. I don't understand her when she says that. That love between them is happening every day, and it's exactly the reason why I haven't been able to see my sister.

Maybe things will change once we reach the shore, and I'll get to spend time with April Grace like we used to do. Jackson will have to go to work, probably. At night, I'll ask to sleep in their bed. I don't think they'll mind.

I miss her something awful. I can't stop thinking about her. I want her back in the cabin with us, with me.

I pull her letter from the pocket of my nightgown and run the edges between my first finger and thumb, feeling the paper get softer and softer. I press the folded thing to my chest, wondering if I'll be able to feel some part of her through it, but I'm too distracted to concentrate for very long.

There are voices outside of our cabin door. Even though it's very late and everyone should be asleep, people are talking in the hall. A great number of them, I think, because I hear all sorts of voices - high and low, young and old. It doesn't make me feel very safe, and I don't think I can fall back to sleep.

I know I can't fall back to sleep as the voices continue to get louder. They don't sound calm, either. They sound scared, people are talking quickly and asking all sorts of questions in more languages than I can understand.

I clutch April Grace's letter with both hands and press it to my lips, then tuck it back into my pocket. I throw the covers off of my body and feel a chill once I do, but I try to ignore it as I climb up to Cecelia's bed to wake her.

"Ceci," I say, throwing one leg over the bar that keeps her from falling off the top bunk. "Ceci, wake up."

I shake her shoulders and her eyes come open slowly. She blinks hard as she looks at my face and wears a confused expression. "Mopsy?" she says, using the nickname that both my sisters have called me since I was born. "What's going on? Why are you awake?"

"There are people talking in the hall," I say, burrowing close to her. She's warm and comfortable, and I feel better here with her, but she's still not Gracie. For right now, though, I'm happy to be beside her. "And there was a loud sound outside."

"A loud sound?" she says, running her hand over the white bonnet I wear to cover my hair at night. "What sort of loud sound?"

"I don't know," I say, hiding my face in her neck. "A sound on the ship."

"A sound outside, or a sound on the ship?" she asks.

"Both," I say.

"Hmm…" she says, stroking my back. "I'm sure everything is all right. You can sleep up here with me tonight, just close your eyes and everything will be fine in the morning."

I try to do as she suggests without putting up a fight, but light filling the room disturbs me a moment later as Meredith and Isobel, our cabinmates, leave the room. "Where are they going?" I ask.

Cecelia sits up to look, noticing that they didn't shut the door behind them. Instead of answering me, she climbs down from the top bunk and curiously looks out, and I don't waste time in following her. I act as her shadow, wrapping my arms around one of hers as she leans out into the hall where many, many people are gathered and talking to each other in voices that make me feel nervous.

"I'm scared, Ceci," I say, leaning close to her side. She winds an arm around me and keeps a good hold on my shoulder.

"What's going on?" she asks a man with a big beard. "Why is everyone awake? Is something wrong?"

"I heard a sound," I say, but my voice is too quiet for anyone to hear.

"Strange noise along the side of the ship," the bearded man says to my sister. "Woke us all up. Did it do the same to you?"

Ceci shakes her head and says, "No. But my sister heard it."

The bearded man peers around Cecelia to look at me. "You heard it, love?" he asks. I nod and start to suck my thumb. "Everything's just fine, wee one," he tells me. Then, he smiles at Ceci. "My daughter used to suck her thumb just like that. I haven't seen her since she was yea high," he says, placing his hand at his waist. "She's nearly grown now. I've been away working. Finally going back to see her." He smiles. "I'm sorry. Listen to me, rambling away. My nerves are jangled, I think."

"Is your daughter in America?" I ask, hoping to tell him that that's where our mama is waiting for us.

But before the bearded man can respond, a loud voice rings out above everyone else's. "Attention, attention!" a man dressed in a shipman's uniform calls. "I understand that everyone is curious about the sound you heard. Some of you may even have felt the ship shake slightly. I can assure you that there's nothing to worry about. Simply a boiler malfunction, and we've got plenty more that are functioning just fine." He takes a moment to scan the crowd. "So, head back to your cabins and catch some shuteye. It's bound to be a beautiful day tomorrow."

"Did you hear that, Lottie?" Cecelia says, guiding me back towards the open door of our cabin. "Just a boiler. Nothing is wrong."

I feel relieved when she says that, but I don't take my thumb out of my mouth. I follow her closely into our room and she lets me crawl back into bed with her, pulling me close and kissing my face once we're both comfortable.

But, just as I'm about to fall back to sleep close to my oldest sister, I hear Meredith and Isobel whispering to each other. "That was no boiler," Isobel says. She's not even trying to keep her voice down, and she sounds scared. I've heard her and Meredith talking at night before, but they usually always whisper. Right now, though, she's forgetting to do that.

"Then what was it?" Meredith asks.

I lift my head, listening too, as Isobel says, "I think we hit something. That's what it sounded like to me."

"What could we have hit?"

"It's cold out there," Isobel says, "it could've been an iceberg. A big one, by the way she made the ship rattle."

I'm not sure what an iceberg is, but it doesn't sound friendly. It sounds like it could hurt our ship. It sounds like it already did.

I still hear people milling about in the hall, having not gone back to bed like we did. I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as Cecelia falls back to sleep, when I hear a man in the hall say, "I was on the deck when she hit! I saw it, it was huge!"

I sit up straight, breathing hard, then turn to my sister. I nudge her, jostling her body around in the small bed, and start to cry as she opens her eyes. "What is it, Lottie?" she says.

"Something's wrong," I say. "We need to find Gracie."

"What do you mean?" Cecelia asks, rubbing her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Where's Gracie?" I ask, feeling my hands start to tremble as I grip my sister's nightgown. "We need to find her. We need to find her very fast."

"Lottie," Cecelia says, "everything is fine. You heard the steward, it was just a boiler."

"It wasn't," I say, shaking my head back and forth. "We hit an iceberg. That's what I heard people saying. A big iceberg, and we need to find Gracie."

"Lottie. Calm down, sweetheart," Cecelia says. "The ship will be fine. You know what everyone says - she's unsinkable."

"Your sister's right," Isobel says, standing up so she's at eye-level with Cecelia's top bunk. "I think we'd best go to the deck to see what's going on."

Cecelia sits up then, looking at Isobel with an expression more concerned than how she was looking at me. "Really?" she says. "How do you know?"

"I was awake when we hit," Isobel says. "All I can say is that sound… it was no boiler."

Cecelia looks at Isobel for a long moment, not saying anything. They just look into each other's eyes and I glance between them, trying to figure out what's going on. I can't, though. I can't figure out what they're saying, because they're not saying anything.

But I listen to my sister when she tells me to get out of bed and put my warmest clothes on. I pull our suitcase out from under the bottom bunk and rifle through it, finding my long underwear, thickest skirt, and wool coat with only one missing button. I put on my boots with the least amount of holes and stand above Cecelia as she laces them tightly.

"Stay close to me," she says, placing a knitted hat on my head and pulling it down over my ears, "and do not let go of my hand."

"Here," Isobel says, handing Cecelia a red scarf. "For the babe."

Cecelia gives our cabinmate a small smile and ties the scarf securely around my neck.

"I'm too hot," I say, sweating under all of my layers.

"When we come back down, you can take it all back off," Cecelia says, buttoning her own coat before taking my hand. Her grip is too tight, but I don't say anything. I don't think she would hear me if I did.

She leads me down the hallway and I have to run to keep up, even though she's only walking. She pulls me by the hand and, with my arm straight out in front of me, I look at everyone's faces as we pass them. Some are still in nightclothes, hair messy and eyes half-open, and some are gathering their belongings and shoving them into bags.

We didn't gather anything. I have Gracie's letter in the pocket of my nightgown, still, under my coat, but nothing more. I want to ask Cecelia if we should go back and get our things like the others are doing, but I can't manage to open my mouth.

We join a group of people heading in the same direction that we are, towards the upper deck where we can see the water. Suddenly, though, we stop moving - we come to a halt as everyone jams near the end of the hall, and all I can see are people's backs, their suitcases, and the eyes of other scared children at my height.

A girl next to me with long black hair sucks her thumb, and I do the same as I press my face to Cecelia's side. "Why aren't we moving anymore?" I ask.

More people push on us from behind as they come out of their rooms and try to leave from the same door we're gathered around. They push my body into the girl beside me, but neither of us really feel it. They keep crowding and crowding, so tightly that I lose my balance and fall to my knees.

Cecelia yanks me up from the floor and sets me on her hip. I'm crying now, loud, sniffling tears that she would tell me to dry up if she weren't so preoccupied. I follow her eyes to see what she's staring at with such a frightened expression, and can just barely make it out at the top of the stairs.

The gate there, the one that separates Third Class from the rest of the ship, is shut tight and locked.

APRIL

"What do you mean?" I say, my breath showing up in foggy puffs amidst the cold air on the promenade. "Of course everything's all right."

A group of young men are kicking around a tennis ball sized chunk of ice and, when it comes sliding my way, I knock it between my feet and make something of a game with it. At Mrs. Ward's estate, Lottie used to make toys out of anything, and this reminds me of her. I know, if she were on the promenade with us, that she'd beg me to kick the ice back and forth with her.

I smile to myself as I pass it to the group of young men. Amused, they send it right back to me and we trade it a few times before I feel Jackson's fingers circle around my forearm. Though I'm sure my skin isn't much warmer, his grip is frigidly cold.

"April," he says, "it's time to go."

I glance at him as the hunk of ice slides its way over to me. "I'm just playing," I say. "Jackson, you can lighten up. Nothing can take the ship down. It's okay."

"I told you before," he says, "it's not okay, and we need to get to the cabin so you can put on a coat."

When Jackson takes my hand, I let him. I hold onto his fingers as he guides me away from the promenade and back to B-Deck, where we'd come from not long ago. "Maybe we should just go back to bed," I say, glancing around and finding not a single soul in the same state as we're in. Everyone else seems to be shut in their rooms, snug under the covers. I don't hear any sounds of distress, worry, or even concern. "We could pick up things where we left them…" I say, trying to get Jackson to laugh.

He doesn't laugh, though. He doesn't even crack a smile. In fact, he doesn't speak until the door to his cabin is closed behind us. After that, his voice sounds from the front closet as he rifles through heavy fabrics, presumably finding me a coat.

"Most likely, everything is fine," he says under his breath. I'm not sure if he's telling himself as much, or if he's telling me. "But we shouldn't have hit the iceberg like that. They shouldn't have allowed it to scrape along her side in the way it did."

He holds out a coat and I slip my arms into it, shrugging to settle the heavy wool once it's placed on my shoulders. It's too big, but Jackson starts doing up the buttons anyway. Once again, I allow it.

"Why not?" I ask, curious about what he knows of the ship.

He shakes his head slightly. "We just shouldn't have," he murmurs, then says something about compartments and flooding, but I can't quite catch the words.

"We won't sink, will we?" I ask, grabbing his wrist as he turns around to get himself a coat.

He turns his head and meets my eyes for a long beat - too long. I've never seen him wear the expression that he's wearing now, and even though we haven't known each other for long, I can read his eyes like we've been married for years.

He doesn't think we're safe.

"As long as no more than four compartments fill with water, we'll stay afloat," he says. "More than four…"

He trails off and doesn't finish, his eyes drifting to the floor. I shake his arm to bring his attention back to me, saying, "What about more than four?" I ask.

He looks me in the eyes again, wearing that same dreadful expression. "Do you have your necklace?" he asks, not answering my question.

I nod, pressing my fingertips to the cool diamonds that rest on my clavicle. "I never take it off," I say.

He pulls a coat from the closet that's as thick as the one I have, and throws it on. "Good," he says.

"Jackson," I say, becoming desperate for information. "What's going to happen?"

He pauses with one hand on the doorknob, his shoulders tensed by his ears. "I don't know," he says.

His tone puts me on edge and makes every inch of my skin crawl with chills. Suddenly, the gravity of the situation dawns on me, and there's only one thing on my mind.

"We need to find my sisters," I say.

…

APRIL 15TH, 1912

There's only one place that Cecelia and Lottie could be, and that's F-Deck. As Jackson and I hurry from B-Deck to the lower quarters, the lower we go, the more frightened people seem to be. On C and D-Deck, things are still relatively quiet, but E-Deck is alive with activity, people in their nightgowns and caps milling about, talking amongst each other and looking around for any signs of what happened.

A few people try to catch mine and Jackson's attention, but we don't have time to stop and talk with them. It's only when we overhear a man saying that they started lowering the lifeboats that a jolt of fear courses through my body and I stop.

"Lifeboats?" I ask, voice wavering.

"Aye," he says, replying to me, "on the port side and the starboard side both. I saw it with me own eyes."

"Why'd you come back down, then?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"Women and children first," he says, "I have to get my wife and daughter up there. What are you doin' all the way down here, in your fancy coat and nightie?"

"My sisters," I say, growing more breathless by the second. "I have to find them."

"You better get a move on then," he says, urging us along. "She'll start fillin' with water before we know it - if she hasn't already."

After those words, Jackson tugs me down the hallway and I struggle to keep up, my feet falling over one another in the flimsy slippers that I forgot to change out of. This is a route that I've taken time and time again, yet everything looks unfamiliar with all of the blanched faces lining the halls.

As we get closer to F-Deck, things begin to quiet down again - but not in a comforting way. Instead, the air grows eerily silent, but not still. There's a chilly breeze about, and there's something fluid about the way our deck feels. It's never felt this way before.

Jackson and I hurry down the stairs that lead to the deck I'm familiar with, but we nearly fall over each other with how fast we come to a halt in the middle of the flight. F-Deck is flooded with crystal blue water, and without even touching it I can tell that it's freezing. It ebbs and flows with the movement of the ship, sloshing against the walls and through the slats of a locked gate that keeps us from gaining access to where I'm sure my sisters are still peacefully sleeping, none the wiser.

At full tilt, I run towards the gate and collide with it as hard as I can, wrapping my fingers around the slats that keep us out of the hall. "Cecelia!" I shout. "Lottie!" I shout their names as loudly as I can, and I'm so concentrated on sending my voice down the long hallway that I barely notice the icy grip that the water has on my ankles, shins, calves, and knees.

When I turn to Jackson, my face is warm with the tears that stream down it. We lock eyes for a moment until he joins me at the gate, rattling it with all his might.

"Excuse me!" a voice calls from behind us. "Excuse me!" We both flip around at the same time and find a steward hurrying towards us, keys jangling. "Excuse me," he says once he reaches us, "you need to get back upstairs. They're loading up the boats. Women and children first." He pants and doubles over, resting his hands on his knees. "Women and children. Miss, you need to get upstairs to a boat."

Before I can protest, I feel Jackson's firm hand on the small of my back. "He's right," he says, nodding towards the flushed steward. "You go. I'll find Cecelia and Lottie, and we'll meet you where it's safe. I'll bring them to you."

"No!" I say, gripping his hand with everything I've got.

"April Grace," he says, his eyebrows lifting. "Please, follow the man. You'll be safe if you do. I'll meet you, I promise."

"No," I say, sobbing. "No."

"April-"

"I need to find them," I say, digging my fingers into his wrist. "I need to be with you. Where you go, I go. That's how this works." I swallow hard and choke back a sob. "I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving you."

Jackson doesn't speak for a moment, he just looks at me with parted lips, his eyes darting back and forth between both of mine. Finally, though, he gives in. "All right," he says, then pulls me in to hug me tightly. I bury my face in his neck and he wraps his arms around my shoulders, whispering in my ear, "Where you go, I go."

We stay in each other's embrace for a long moment, and when we pull apart, I tell the steward, "I'm staying."

He starts to leave, but Jackson stops him. "Wait!" he says. "Please, your keys. Can we have your keys?"

The steward looks down the hall, then looks at his gathering of keys. He contemplates, standing in place for a long moment as the water continues to rise, then shakes his head forcefully and yanks the keys from his belt. "Take them," he says, then wades away in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" I call after him. "Which key unlocks this gate?"

He's too far away to answer, though. He doesn't even look back. I doubt, over the buzzing lights and churning water, that he even heard me.

"I'll just try them all," Jackson says, fumbling with the keys. His fingers must be cold, which is why he can't keep a good grip, but he does his best. He tries keys of all shapes and sizes, and it takes more than ten attempts before we find one that works.

When the gates finally separate from each other, the relief I feel is palpable. "Thank God," I sigh, then take off after Jackson when he starts running. He reaches back and takes my hand, but my floor-length coat doesn't allow me to go half as fast as he can in the rising water. Now, it's up to our thighs.

Without stopping, I shed the coat and find that it's much easier to move through the water without it. With a mission in mind, I don't feel the cold. At least, not yet.

"Almost there," Jackson says. Now, the water is at our chests.

As we round the corner, we're forced to stop. Floating face-down in the shifting, turning water is a black-haired woman dressed in gray, an open suitcase overturned beside her. Her belongings are scattered throughout the water - papers, photos, articles of clothing, everything she's ever owned is littered around her body and, consequently, around ours as well.

Just a few feet away from her floats a little girl with the same color hair. But, instead of face-down, she's face-up with her brown eyes wide open. Her hair, much like her mother's, is fanned around her head is serpentine tendrils that wrap around the baubles surrounding her. When the end of her dark locks brush my hand, I whimper and flinch away, fighting the urge to cry.

The two of them didn't make it out. It makes me wonder who else is trapped down here.

"Oh," I say, covering my mouth with one hand. I can't take my eyes off of the pair, bobbing near each other in death. The mother's hands aren't visible, but the little girl's fingers are stretched out, like they're reaching for something - or someone - to hold onto.

"Keep moving," Jackson says, avoiding the bodies. He pulls me around them, too, and I'm careful not to touch the little girl again. I feel awful, but we can't stop. We're almost there.

The floating woman and her daughter are still on my mind as we get closer to F-70 where I'm sure Cecelia and Lottie must be waiting for us. But soon, I'm forced to think about something else - keeping my head above water.

The water level has reached our necks now, and I have to lift my face to keep from inhaling the ocean. Jackson, being considerably taller than I am, is having an easier time, so he leads me as best he can down the hall until we reach the cabin that my sisters and I share with Meredith and Isobel.

But the door is barely visible. I can only see the top of it, as the rest is completely shrouded with water, shut tight and sealed.

"No!" I say, pushing my way through. I yank the handle as hard as I can, but it doesn't budge. The water is creating too much pressure. It won't move.

As I stand there pulling at the door, I take note of the sound of rushing water in the distance. I barely pay it any mind, though, because all I can think about is getting this door open - even while Jackson insists that I stop.

"April Grace," he says, "they're not here. They can't be. They got out."

"What do you mean?" I ask, banging on the door. My fists make next to no noise, though, under the water. "The gate. How could they have gotten past the gate?"

"They did," he says. "The stewards lowered it after everyone got out. I'm sure of it."

His words, while I don't know whether or not I should believe them, make sense. F-Deck is silent. The only people still left on this level are most likely floating like the woman and little girl that we passed, and Cecelia and Lottie weren't with them. They're nowhere to be seen down here.

That has to mean they got out. I have to believe that's what it means.

The sound of swift, steady water draws nearer, and I feel Jackson's hand tighten around mine. "April Grace," he says, his eyes growing wide as he looks at something over my shoulder. "We have to go."

I follow his gaze and see a wave of icy water coming at us at full speed, a wave that will completely submerge F-Deck and, therefore, submerge us, under the water.

"We have to go!" Jackson shouts again, and leads the way past the floating woman and the little girl, the detritus of their luggage, all the way to the gate we came through to reach F-70 - only to find that it shut and locked in our wake, trapping us in the path of the rising water.