We’re crowded in the bathroom, both trying to blow-dry our hair and apply makeup. We’re plugged in on opposite sides of the bathroom, each of us in front of our own sink, our blow-dryers loud. My eyes are red rimmed, and they feel raw every time I blink. I hardly slept, and when I did, I dreamed of Chloe, playing cards, nooses, and bombs. Had Chloe taken another card out of Dad’s wallet? I’d been snooping through his safe, so I couldn’t really judge her if she’d been doing the same thing. But seeing her with that horrible card in her hand? It made me worry. Members of my family have come into contact with at least four creepy cards in the last couple weeks since the bombing attempt. The one in my locker, the one Chloe found in Dad’s wallet, the one I found in the safe, and the one I’d seen in Chloe’s hand yesterday. What in the world is going on? And why is my family such a part of it? I watch us both in the mirror, look at our faces, and marvel at how different we are.
