Mom used to tell me that if I stared hard enough I could look right into space. See the stars shinning bright, see a whole new world with a whole new start.

Every night as she would tuck me in she whispered the same thing into my ear.

“Remember,” Mom whispered, pulling the sheets up to my chin.

She leaned her head down, touching her lips to my cheek, as her blonde hair tickled my cheek.

“There’s a whole world out there,” she’d say. “And you’re mine.”

A bump in the road brings my eyes up from my lap. Uncle Will peers at me through the mirror.

“Rayleigh?” He asks, clicking his blinker on. “Everything okay?”

Uncle Will looks both ways, leaning forward before turning right down the busy streets of Utah.

I shrug, “I’m fine.”

Uncle Will sighs, “Ray I’m really sorry. I wish I could take care of you but, I’m not in a good situation right now.”

Neither am I. Is what I wanted to say.

My whole life is over. I died when that strong ocean tide pulled my parents off the boat.

I died when my older brother Nik jumped in after them.

I can still hear the sounds of their screams.

“Kate!” My dad’s voice had echoed through the night. The waves that pulled Mom in were jumping up into the boat. Laughing as they tipped the boat. Laughing as Dad fell in. Laughing as every moment flashed before my eyes.

And still laughing when I woke up in a hospital bed. An orphan, the girl with no family.

“Here we are,” Uncle Will pulls the car up a drive way. In front of us is a huge house.

Its white walls seem to glitter in the small amount of light that the winter sky will let shine.

“You’ll love the Dawson’s,” Uncle Will twist around to look at me. “Rose Dawson was your mother’s best friend.”

Before I can get a word out, a knock on the window sends my eyes to it.

A boy, black hair brushing across his forehead as he leans down, smiles at me. Waving.

“Hey!” He calls his voice muffled by the window.

Uncle will steps out of the car, “This is Rayleigh. She’s from California.”

The boy smiles at him, stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his navy jeans.

Uncle Will motions for me to step out of the car.

I do, imminently the boy grabs my hand.

“I’m Khoen,” he says shaking my hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Khoen lets go of my hand, “I guess I’ll see you around.” A sly smile spreads across his face, “California.”