Some Quiet Place

end of the hall dongs. We stand there, and the song plays. Charles sighs. “I’m staying at my buddy Garrett’s house for a while. If you … if you need me for anything, just give me a call, all right?”
    We both know I won’t. But it’s nice of him to make the offer anyway. “See you,” I say, reaching out to give him a one-armed hug since he’s carrying the bags. He doesn’t try to hug me back, but I do feel his chin rest on the top of my head, just for a moment.
    I watch him go down the stairs. Before he reaches the bottom step I turn away to go back to my cold, lonely bed.
    “Liz?”
    I poke my head out the door one more time. Charles has stopped. He’s looking up at me. When I don’t respond, he bites his bottom lip. “You asked me a while ago if I remember what you were like as a baby.” He meets my gaze suddenly, determination in the lines of his face. “The truth is, I don’t really remember that girl. She was so different from who you are now. But I do remember one thing. I’ve never forgotten, really. It was right after you had your accident. I asked you once, ‘How are you feeling, Liz?’ It was … scary. You looked right at me and said, ‘Liz is dead.’”
    I force a smile. “Thank you for telling—”
    “I’m not done.” His hold on both bags tightens. “I asked you why you would say that. You didn’t answer me right away. In fact, it wasn’t until after supper. I was outside hitting some balls. You came up behind me and you said, ‘I took her place.’ I was just a kid, but even then I saw how real it was. You’ve never been my sister, but I still treated you like one, because I always thought you needed someone to show you some kindness.”
    I blink. Once. Twice. “What—”
    “I’m not as ignorant as I act. None of us are. We all saw the change in you. No accident could do that. I don’t care what the counselors or the doctors said. I’ve always believed that there are strange things in the world, even though we can’t see them. You’re just one of the mysteries, Elizabeth. I accepted that.”
    The words hit me like bullets to the chest. You’ve never been my sister . Some part of me did always believe that even though I’m different, apart, I’m blood to these people. This—the need to belong to a family I should have already belonged to—might have been the real thing that urged me to find the answers. Their pain drove me to try to become the girl they once knew.
    But I can’t think about this now. Later. Because it’s time for another goodbye.
    I study Charles. Maybe I’ve been too quick to judge him. It just goes to show that what’s on the surface is never all there is. “Charles.” I smile down at him. “Go. You were a good brother—the best you could be—and I’ll never forget you.”
    It’s as if a weight has lifted off of him; his shoulders slump and he sighs again. “See you in another lifetime, Liz,” he murmurs, grinning. That flop of hair shines beneath the entryway light. He nods at me and turns his back for the last time, leaving this life behind to seek out a new one. Just as Sarah did. A life that won’t hiss with secrets from every corner and where pretending is unnecessary.
    The door shuts with just a gentle click and Charles Cald-
well is gone. Somehow, I know I won’t see him again.
    I go back to bed, settling into the sheets as if I’d never left. The filmy curtains around my window flutter, and I focus on them as sleep claims me. The dream waits in the recesses of my mind, waits patiently to take me down into the depths.
    He stands with his back to me, in that pose I’m beginning to identify as his: arms behind his back, hands clasped. We’re on a clear platform of some kind, surrounded by nothing but white, open air. The wind tugs at my hair. It hangs loose, long—I never wear it like this. I look down and see that once again I’m wearing the yellow sundress. It seems out of place now that all the illusions are gone. He isn’t using Landon this time, isn’t hiding behind meadows or stone houses.
    “What are you waiting for?” I ask his back dully. “Go ahead. Finish it.”
    He doesn’t turn. After a moment he says, “I find that I like my opponents to be invested in the game.” His tone is light, casual, as if he’s commenting on the weather. His clothing presses against his body; he’s facing the wind. I glance around and wonder for a brief moment where we are. Then I remember that it doesn’t