SydneyThe next morning was a little too uneventful for a weekend—a day without school. The house was even quiet. No chatter from the kitchen, no Micheal, no Tyler, no Brooklyn…Wait, no Brooklyn?I slipped out of bed slowly, grabbing my phone as I walked out of the room, threading carefully towards her room.I turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.Every door in the house could only be locked from the outside, so that meant Brooklyn hadn’t come back home.Great.Hopefully, Mom wasn’t going to be around so I didn’t have to lie to anybody.I smoothed the long, baggy shirt I wore and walked slowly towards the step, just in case there was a jump scare and Tyler Sinclair was silently sitting in our kitchen.Instead, the smell of pancakes hit me as I reached the top of the staircase.Not Brooklyn’s underdone ones or the ones the chef hurriedly put together when we had to go to school.This one was familiar—the kind I’d gotten used to during the first three weeks after I moved to Lakevi
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