This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2018 by Amelia Brunskill
Cover art copyright © 2018 by Trevillion Images/Mark Owen
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Brunskill, Amelia, author.
Title: The window / Amelia Brunskill.
Description: First edition. | New York : Delacorte Press, [2018] | Summary: After her twin sister Anna falls to her death while sneaking out her bedroom window, high school sophomore Jess tries to learn everything she can about the sister she thought she knew and soon discovers that her twin kept many dark secrets.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017013534 | ISBN 978-1-5247-2029-2 (hc) | ISBN 978-1-5247-2031-5 (ebook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Sisters—Fiction. | Twins—Fiction. | Grief—Fiction. | Secrets—Fiction. | Mystery and detective stories.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.B8124 Wi 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
Ebook ISBN 9781524720315
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-one
Chapter Sixty-two
Chapter Sixty-three
Chapter Sixty-four
Chapter Sixty-five
Chapter Sixty-six
Chapter Sixty-seven
Chapter Sixty-eight
Chapter Sixty-nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-one
Chapter Seventy-two
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To Kevin, the heart of my heart
Sometimes I worry that I’m not a good person.
I think I used to be.
But I haven’t been good lately.
I WAS INSPECTING MY SOCKS when they called my name.
It was first-period gym class, and I’d just realized that my socks were entirely wrong. They were long and pulled up straight to midcalf, while those of every other girl in the room were short, barely visible above their sneakers.
There were obviously unwritten sock protocols. They probably weren’t even new—most likely I was only catching up three months into my sophomore year. Good at school, bad at life. That could be my slogan. Anna might get a kick out of that, even if she’d pretend to disagree.
“Jess?”
Mrs. Hayes, the school counselor, was standing inside the door of the gym, her hands locked in front of her, her back rigid. The gym teacher, Ms. Turner, stood beside her. Ms. Turner looked strange. It took a second before I realized why—her face lacked its trademark scowl. Its absence worried me, but what worried me more was that she appeared to be indicating that I should leave class and go with Mrs. Hayes.
“Jess, please come with me,” Mrs. Hayes said.
I got up slowly, to see if Ms. Turner would object. She did not.
—
MRS. HAYES AND I LEFT the gym together and walked through the long, cool hallways. The pea-green lockers and yellow linoleum floors contributed to the schoolwide symphony of poor color choices. I felt a little nauseous.
Mrs. Hayes kept glancing at me as we walked, as though she suspected I might suddenly make a break for it.
It seemed like she should say something to me, something reassuring, but she said nothing, not even where we were going. I tried to think what this might be about, tried to remember if my parents had mentioned any recent health problems in either set of my grandparents. I didn’t think they had, not beyond the usual. Anna would know, though; Anna paid attention.
We turned a corner and I saw Principal Stevens standing outside her office, looking toward us. As usual, everything about her seemed intentional: her fitted gray blazer, her crisp white shirt, her dark hair, which fell in a straight, glossy bob. She motioned us inside.
My dad sat in her office, slumped in a chair. When he saw me, he jerked upright, as if he’d been pulled by invisible strings. His face was taut and his mouth vibrated at the edges.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “What happened?”
“Jess,” he said, staring at me. “You should sit down.”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I want to stand.”
He closed his eyes. “Jess. Please sit.”
There was a gravity to what he said, a gravity that pulled me into a chair.
“There was an accident, we think, and…” His voice faltered and then he started again.
“I’m so sorry….”
More words followed, a stream of them. They didn’t make any sense.
I heard his words individually. Anna. Fell. Bad. Sorry. They didn’t—couldn’t—connect with each other. It was as if they were part of a riddle I couldn’t decipher. Fell, bad, Anna, sorry. Sorry, Anna, fell, bad.
Anna.
Bad.
Fell.
Sorry.
Eventually, they slotted together. And I knew he was wrong. He was wrong because it couldn’t be true. I would have known. I would have known from the moment I woke up, from the second it happened.
“You’re wrong,” I said, rising from my chair.
He began to stand up. “Jess…”
“No,” I said, as calmly as I could. “You’re wrong. I’d know if anything happened to her. She’ll be in class right now. You’ll see.”
He opened his mouth again, but I didn’t wait to hear what he had to say.
—
THE COOL AIR OF THE hallway felt good on my skin. The office had been way too warm. The thermostat must have been broken or set incorrectly. Such overheating was careless, environmentally irresponsible. It couldn’t be good for the principal either, or for the crispness of her shirts.
A hum started in my brain: Anna, bad, fell—
No, everything was fine. We would laugh about this later, and everything would be fine. Completely fine.
Anna would be in history right now. I’d go there and she’d be at her desk. I walked faster, trying to outpace the hum in my brain.
I was almost running by the time
