For my dad, Myron Picoult, who taught me to be original. There are not many men in the world who can sneeze like a duck, spy hales of bay, make very bad puns...and cherish their daughters so completely. I love you.

She had often dreamed of her little sister floating dead beneath the surface of the ice, but tonight, for the first time, she envisioned Hannah clawing to get out.

Then I hurried down the stairs, outside to where the world was waiting.