Wrecked by Anna Davies

tormented by insomnia or nightmares, but she didn’t want to worry Teddy. She remembered the months after their parents died, when Teddy would climb into Miranda’s bed with her. She was supposed to be his protector.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” Teddy asked, noticing her hesitation.
    Miranda nodded shakily. “I need to go to sleep anyway. I have school tomorrow.” Not waiting for an answer, she unsteadily climbed back through the window, down the stairs, and headed back to her bedroom.

T HE NEXT MORNING , M IRANDA WOKE UP TO THE STEADY thrum of rain pelting the skylight above her. This was typical for October, and the reason why year-rounders had disdain for summer people, who left as soon as the seasonal storms rolled in. As the months got colder, the island was surrounded by what the locals called the Sea Witch’s Shawl: a collection of clouds that enveloped the island during the middle of the night and burnt off as the sun rose.
    A second later, her alarm began the loud, incessant buzz she’d awoken to on school days for the past eleven years. As if to underscore the time, the door suddenly swung open, and Eleanor charged in. She was wearing a peach silk robe that fell to the oak floorboards, but her hair was pulled up into aneat chignon and she was wearing lipstick and blush.
    “Rise and shine!” Eleanor said briskly, clapping her hands.
    “I’m awake,” Miranda grumbled, taking in Eleanor’s overdressed ensemble. It was as if it was Eleanor’s first day of school.
    “Good. I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast,” Eleanor said, pausing for a moment before she turned and headed out the door. Miranda couldn’t remember the last time Eleanor had woken her up.
    Once she was gone, Miranda swung her legs off the bed and gingerly set her feet on the floor. Her whole body felt like lead. Every morning, there was a second between dreaming and wakefulness where she forgot about the accident. But then, as soon as she opened her eyes, the full weight of the tragedy fell upon her and it was as if she were watching the boat capsize all over again.
    And of course, her bright pink bedroom didn’t match her mood. As a surprise, Eleanor had redecorated Miranda’s room when Miranda was at soccer camp in California the summer between seventh and eighth grades. As a result, the canopy bed was cotton candy pink, and the walls were pink trimmed with bright turquoise. And even though Miranda hadn’t expected much from Eleanor, the room just reaffirmed what she’d always known: that Eleanor expected Miranda to be a carbon copy of her, and was never going to accept that she simply wasn’t.
    Now, it was as if the room was actively mocking her, especially when Miranda’s eyes darted from the crutches in thecorner to the ugly knee brace propped up against a honeysuckle pink ottoman. If she woke up in some dark attic room with creaky floorboards and dank walls, she’d at least feel like she belonged. Here, it was just one more reminder of how nothing would ever be the same. Eyeshadows, eyebrow pencils, and mascaras littered the surface of the vanity table. Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust; the one area of the room that Eleanor hadn’t found any nostalgic items to pack away, and therefore, left untouched. It was always the first place Miranda glanced when she woke up. Seeing everything as it was somehow prolonged that second in the morning before reality came crashing down.
    The door creaked open again and Louisa entered, wearing the standard white uniform she’d worn every day since Miranda could remember.
    “Missy? Your grandma thought you might need some help?” Louisa pushed open the door and flashed Miranda a sunny smile and set to work opening the curtains and drawing the blinds. Ever since she was moved here, Louisa could always make things sort of better. Until now.
    “No.” Miranda stared at the ceiling. Even shifting from lying on her back to lying on her side seemed pointless, and she