Free The Fragile Line: Part One (The Fine Line #2) by Alicia Kobishop Page B

me tight-lipped, fake-assed smiles.  Why were they so sad?
    We stood there for several minutes in silence while I unsuccessfully strained to hear the conversation between my sister and Davila Arnold. As I traced my big toe along a crack that had developed in our concrete porch, I thought about how strange it was that the officers weren’t saying anything to me or to each other.  Police officers were supposed to make you feel safe.  These two made me feel anything but safe. 
    “I’m so sorry, Miss McCarthy,” I vaguely heard Miss Arnold say to my sister as she began walking back toward us.  “We’ll stay until you get here…  Yes…  Here she is.”
    I took the phone, unable to control the quiver in my voice, “Brynn, what’s going on?”
    “Let them in, Chloe,” my sister sniffled, her voice cracking. “I’ll be there in two hours.”
    After hanging up, I opened the door and did as she said.  The police officers came inside first, followed by Miss Arnold.
    She placed her hand on my shoulder, “Is there somewhere we can sit down?”
    “Okay,” I said, unable to control my shaking hands, as I led them to the living room.  What was so important that I had to let these strangers in our house?  Or that my sister had to immediately come home from college?  And if it was so important, why weren’t Mom or Dad here?
    “Have a seat,” she said, motioning for me to sit on the couch as if this were her home and I was the guest.
    She sat down next to me, while the young officer found a place on the ottoman, and the older one took a seat on the piano bench. 
    “We have some difficult news,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, Chloe.  There was an accident with the hot air balloon your parents were riding in this afternoon.  As a result, your mom and dad have died.”
     
    ~~~
     
    I still hadn’t spoken a word by the time my sister arrived two hours later.  I hadn’t cried either.  Miss Arnold and the officers must’ve known I was in shock because even though the tears didn’t come, the officers tried to console me, speaking comforting words and asking if I needed anything.  They even turned the TV on to try to distract me, but I just hugged my knees to my chest and buried my face in them, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to force myself awake.  Because this couldn’t be happening for real.  It had to be a dream, and I wanted to get out of it. 
    All I could think about was the way Mom always smiled with her eyes and how she was the only one who knew how to make oatmeal the right way.  I thought about Dad’s warm hugs, his deep belly laugh, and the way he could always talk Mom into letting me have extra screen-time, especially when I did something nice. 
    After a while, I began to wonder, if they were really gone, who would help me with my homework and take me to volleyball practice.  And then I thought about what a horrible person I must be to think of myself in a time like this.  So I started thinking about the accident.  How exactly did they die?  Did they suffer? 
    Little did I know, I’d have the “privilege” of witnessing it on video the following day.
    All the while, I reinforced in my mind the fact that if this wasn’t a dream, it had to be some kind of cruel prank, like the ones you see on the Internet.  Parents the ages of mine don’t die, and if they do, it’s never together at the same time and never because of some freak accident.  It’s always cancer or car crashes. 
    Yes, it must be a prank.   Something as unrealistic as a freaking hot air balloon accident could have no other explanation.  I almost expected Mom and Dad to walk through the door when my sister opened it and entered the house.  And when I saw that it was her and not them, I finally broke down. 
    Brynn rushed to my side, and I buried my face on her shoulder, the distinct smell of her Victoria’s Secret spritz flooding my mind with memories of when she used to live with