Chapter 3

The volunteer shifted his flashlight toward me. The beam caught the blood soaking through my sleeve.

“Lily, hold on to the rope. We’re bringing you up.”

I reached for it with both hands. Mom reminded him about the car, but he kept watching me and told the man beside him to hold the line steady.

“She’s bleeding. Step back.”

“You should remember whose property you’re on.”

I tried to straighten, but pain folded me over before I could secure the rope around myself. The volunteer leaned farther down, talking me through it.

“Take your time. The rescue team is almost here.”

I followed his voice, drawing shallow breaths as I worked the rope beneath my arms.

“Lily,” Mom said, “are you really coming up empty-handed?”

I looked toward her silhouette beside the light.

“Let me rest first. Then I can look again.”

She turned toward a guard and reached for something at his belt. The volunteer shouted for her to stop.

The rope suddenly went slack.

My shoulder and side struck the wall, and I fell into the muddy water with a length of rope across my knees. A deeper pain spread through my abdomen as I tried to sit up.

Above me, the volunteer yelled, “You cut it? She was holding on!”

I found the severed end and rubbed the loose fibers between my fingers, then looked up for Mom.

“Now you can finish looking,” she said. “You’ll never learn responsibility if someone keeps letting you off.”

The volunteer raised his radio again.

“The mother has cut the line. We need police here immediately. The casualty is injured and still below.”

Mom ordered a guard to take him away. As they argued, Owen’s voice broke through.

“My car’s at home!”

He was crying too hard to get the words out at first.

“Grandma put it away. I didn’t bring it. Lily doesn’t have to look.”

I stared at the mud around my knees and picked a small stone out of my palm.

“Mom, did you hear him?”

For a moment, she said nothing. When she spoke again, her voice was louder.

“Why couldn’t you have told me you couldn’t find it? You let this turn into a scene.”

“I kept telling you.”

I tried to say more, but my chest tightened until I could only gasp.

Mom heard me struggling.

“Look at yourself. I ask you for one favor, and everyone has to stop and comfort you.”

The volunteer pushed past the guard and crouched at the opening.

“Lily, where are you bleeding?”

I pressed my side harder. Warm blood seeped between my fingers.

“Where I had surgery.”

“What surgery?”

Mom answered before I could.

“She recovered. Her doctor cleared her to go back to college.”

He asked again. She told him to speak to our family doctor, and I hurried to answer before they could start another argument.

“They took a kidney. Last month.”

The flashlight stayed on my face.

Someone returned with the spare line. The volunteer lowered it immediately, but I could barely raise my hands. The loop slipped from my fingers each time I tried to pull it around myself.

“All right, Lily. Stay still. We need someone down there with you.”

He turned away to speak into his radio. Mom leaned over the rim.

“You had to tell a stranger? Your father is inside with our guests. Do you want him dragged into this, too?”

I pressed my lips together.

I tried to wipe my face, but my hands only smeared more mud across it. The volunteer called my name again. I answered so softly I could barely hear myself.

Then Mom’s phone rang.

“Sweetheart, start eating with your father. I’ll be right there.”

Serena was asking where she had gone. Mom told her there had been a little trouble outside and reminded her to have the kitchen replace anything that had gone cold.

I waited for her to finish.

“Mom.”

I tried it once. Barely any sound came out.

The volunteer asked whether I could still hear him. I lifted my hand, and his light caught the smartwatch on my wrist.

My resident adviser had helped me set up its emergency shortcut.

Mom was my first contact.

I reached for the side button, but my wet thumb slipped. Above me, Mom was telling the guards to keep people out of the grounds. Dinner was waiting, and she wanted the crowd gone.

“Open the gate!” the volunteer shouted. “That’s the rescue truck!”

A siren sounded beyond the wall. I tried to tell him I could hear it, but my body slid sideways against the stone.

With my wrist pressed to my chest, I finally held the button long enough.

The call began to ring.

I watched Mom’s name on the little screen and fought to keep my eyes open.

If she answered, I could ask her again.