Chapter 1

The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade was on TV, but the house was dead quiet. The marching bands and giant balloons felt like they were from another world, a million miles away. I sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, but the cold wasn't just in the air. It was inside me.

A week ago, my mom, Maria, and my older brother, Leo, died. Their car went off that winding country road just outside of town. Today was supposed to be their wake. My first Thanksgiving alone. The thought was a heavy weight in my stomach.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table. The screen showed Mom's picture. I froze. It was impossible. My hand shook as I answered it. Static crackled, and then a distorted voice, thin and stretched, came through.

"Sweetheart, we're almost home."

The line went dead. A chill went straight through me, colder than the November air outside. I stared at the blank screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. It had to be a prank, a cruel, sick joke.

Then, a knock on the front door.

I didn't move. The knock came again, firmer this time. I slowly got up, my legs feeling like they were filled with sand, and walked to the door. I looked through the peephole.

It was them.

Mom and Leo stood on the porch, holding grocery bags. They looked pale, their skin tight over their bones, and they stood unnaturally still. I fumbled with the lock, my mind screaming that this couldn't be real.

I opened the door.

"Sarah," Mom said, her voice flat. She tried to smile, but it was a stiff, painful-looking thing.

Leo just stared at me, his eyes hollow.

They stepped inside. The first thing they did was look at the mantelpiece. I had put their memorial photos there this morning. A framed picture of Mom smiling at my high school graduation, another of Leo and me making stupid faces at the beach.

The photos were gone.