First published in the USA by HarperCollins Publishers Inc in 2017
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Childrenâs Books in 2017
HarperCollins Childrenâs Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
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Copyright © 2017 by Alloy Entertainment and Katharine McGee
All rights reserved.
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
Cover photographs © Ilina Simeonova / Trevillion Images;
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Katharine McGee asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008179946
Ebook Edition © 2017 ISBN: 9780008179939
Version: 2017-07-26
IT WOULD BE several hours before the girlâs body was found.
It was late now; so late that it could once again be called earlyâthat surreal, enchanted, twilight hour between the end of a party and the unfurling of a new day. The hour when reality grows dim and hazy at the edges, when nearly anything seems possible.
The girl floated facedown in the water. Above her stretched a towering city, dotted with light like fireflies, each pinprick an individual person, a fragile speck of life. The moon gazed over it all impassively, like the eye of an ancient god.
There was something deceptively peaceful about the scene. Water flowed around the girl in a serene dark sheet, making it seem that she was merely resting. The tendrils of her hair framed her face in a soft cloud. The folds of her dress clung determinedly to her legs, as if to protect her from the predawn chill. But the girl would never feel cold again.
Her arm was outstretched, as though she were reaching for someone she loved, or maybe to ward off some unspoken danger, or maybe even in regret over something she had done. The girl had certainly made enough mistakes in her too-short lifetime. But she couldnât have known that they would all come crashing down around her tonight.
After all, no one goes to a party expecting to die.
MARIEL VALCONSUELO SAT cross-legged on her quilted bedspread in her cramped bedroom on the Towerâs 103rd floor. There were countless people in every direction, separated from her by nothing but a few meters and a steel wall or two: her mother in the kitchen, the group of children running down the hallway, her neighbors next door, their voices low and heated as they fought yet again. But Mariel might as well have been alone on Manhattan right now, for all the attention she gave them.
She leaned forward, clutching her old stuffed bunny tight to her chest. The watery light of a poorly transmitted holo played across her face, illuminating her sloping nose and prominent jaw, and her dark eyes, now brimming with tears.
Before her flickered the image of a girl with red-gold hair and a piercing, gold-flecked gaze. A smile played around her lips, as if she knew a million secrets that no one could ever guess, which she probably did. In the corner of the image, a tiny white logo spelled out INTERNATIONAL TIMES OBITUARIES.
âToday we mourn the loss of Eris Dodd-Radson,â began the obituaryâs voice-overânarrated by Erisâs favorite young actress. Mariel wondered what absurd sum Mr. Radson had paid for that. The actressâs tone was far too perky for the subject matter; she could just as easily have been discussing her favorite workout routine. âEris was taken from us in a tragic accident. She was only seventeen.â
Tragic accident. Thatâs all you have to say when a young woman falls from the roof under suspicious circumstances? Erisâs parents probably just wanted people to know that Eris hadnât jumped. As if anyone whoâd met her could possibly think that.