My beautiful, tall, long-limbed sister, Susan. Her wheat-blonde hair thicker and lighter than either Jack’s or mine, just like my father’s, where we’d been given our mother’s limp mouse-brown locks. Susan who couldn’t be told anything she didn’t want to hear. Susan who was eighteen and so beautiful that I’d never known anyone who didn’t fall in love with her at least a little. Susan who spoke what she meant as if the world waited to hear it.

She’d just finished high school. She was ready for a break, a summer with her friends, some time to decide on what came next in life.

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