Maisey

      I ran faster, harder, the impact of my feet on the hard-packed sand jarring my knees, my hips, but I ignored it, slamming my feet into the surface. I’d stood there, in Sarah’s room, cradling the limp, unresponsive body of my baby half brother.

      “I think I’ve killed the baby. You have to save the baby.”

      My arms swung at my sides, my legs pumping—faster, faster—and my thighs, my calves, each muscle group burned. I remembered the frantic pleading in my voice. I remembered watching my sister take charge.

      Sarah quickly checked Frankie’s pulse, in his wrist and then his neck. My sister knelt over the unconscious toddler as I stood anxiously just inside the doorway, and she pinched Frankie’s nose, breathing into his mouth. Sarah finally looked up. “I’ll sort it, Maisey. Don’t worry. It will look like an accident. You’re not in trouble, though, okay? Go back downstairs, and pretend to be asleep.”

      Relief made my legs shake, and I nodded.

      My cheeks are wet now, and my legs were mimicking the tremors of that afternoon so long ago as I pushed myself to the limit, sprinting along the beach.

      I walked quietly out to the backyard, and lay down on the chaise longue, not too far away from Alice. I leaned back, closing my eyes, the sun beating down on my face, my chest, my legs, those cicadas still buzzing in the background. The normal sounds of a summer day, yet so grating. I heard the back door open, heard my sister walk, ever so quietly, down the path. I held my breath, my lips curling inward, my eyes itching, as I heard her step into the pool area. Then I listened as Sarah crept back up to the house, and then I jolted at the bloodcurdling scream. I sat up and whirled around as Sarah flew out of the house, the sounds from her voice so alien, so unfamiliar.

      “Frankie, oh, my God, Frankie!”

      My blood turned to ice in my veins as Sarah kept screaming.

      And then I heard our next-door neighbors’ screen door slam open.

      I lurched, bending over as my stomach heaved, and I vomited on the beach, the hot tears streaming down my face.

      I told you not to look. Lucy’s voice was angry, harsh.

      How could you keep this from me? I wailed in my mind, the sound echoing against the walls of my skull. I took a couple of steps, then fell to my knees, my stomach still twisting, although there was nothing left to bring up.

      That’s my job, Maisey. To protect