An eerie silence spread through the house when I got up that morning. Midway through my ninth year of school, I got ready as per normal, donning the obligatory polo and pants uniform (like April, mum never convinced me to wear the school skirt). Smoothing out my wavy hair and brushing my teeth, I finally headed down the stairs with ten minutes to spare before my sister would hound me for being late.

I was exhausted from the conversation April and I had until the late hours of the night before mum busted us. But I figured April and I could drop by the shops on the way to school to get a coffee or energy drink.

On a normal day, April would be waiting for me by the front door. She had gotten her license only a few months ago.

On a typical day, dad would be drinking his coffee in front of the morning news on the couch. He left for work not long after us.

On a usual day, mum would be seen packing dad’s lunch in the kitchen. She would already be dressed in her work attire, ready to leave just after dad.

But the house was empty.

The lights were off.

The doors and windows closed.

I headed into the kitchen, glancing around for a sign of anyone having been here. A chopping board with a used knife sat on the kitchen counter. The remnants of a tomato still splayed over the wood. My dad’s lunchbox sat at the edge of the island, unpacked.

Walking back into the living room, the TV remote sat on the coffee table, not in it’s usual holder as mum liked it.

Unlocking the front door, I noticed April’s car on the street and dad’s still in the driveway, but mum’s gone.

I took back up the stairs, two at a time, swinging April’s door open, prepared to ask what I had missed or jump on her bed to rouse her from her sleep.

Yet the deafening silence oozed from her room. Bed unmade, clothes thrown around, phone on her bedside table, still on charge.

Walking down the hallway, I peered into mum and dad’s room. It was made as per usual, though dad’s uniform still sat on the bed, ready to be worn.

Heading back down the stairs, I yanked my phone out of my bag and rang my mum. Then dad. Neither picked up.

Biting my lip, unsure what to do, I decided to pick up my bag. Locking the front door behind me, I raced down to the bus stop. Whatever had happened, I would find out surely when I got home. I had an important assignment due today, so there was no use waiting at home for something that was probably minor.

When I got off the bus at school, just before the bell, Evie wasn’t there, though that was expected. She probably figured I wasn’t coming today as April and I normally got to school half an hour before first class. The last thing she would expect would be me taking the bus again.

Shuffling down the undercover walkways towards English, I couldn’t help getting the sense that people were staring at me. Lifting my gaze from the cement beneath me, I confirmed my fears. 

Whispered talk echoed in the space around me as people looked at me with shocked eyes, pointing, gossiping.

I shoved the nervous pit in my stomach deeper down and continued my way to class, excusing myself to the teacher for being a couple minutes late.

But as I set up my book and pens, the burning eyeballs tingled my skin. Begrudgingly, I raised my gaze, glancing around the room.

Everyone staring at me.

Everyone whispering.

“I can’t believe she came,” I heard someone mutter nearby.

“You’d think she’d care enough about her sister to stay home,” another said.

Noticing my tenseness, Miss Fitzgerald walked over to my desk, crouching down by me. “Are you okay to be here today?”

“Yeah, why?” I asked.

Lips pursed in pity, she cocked her head to the side. “Have you seen your sister this morning?”

“No. The house was empty.”

Miss Fitzgerald sighed and nodded before getting to her feet. “Let me know if you need to leave the room, though I’m sure your parents will call the office to collect you at some point. Best you’re here than alone at home.”

And then the teacher called the class to attention, beginning her lecture on writing journalistic articles. As captivating the class content was, no one was paying attention to Miss Fitzgerald. Eyes mostly remaining on the board for our teacher’s amusement flickered to me every now and then when her back was turned. Endless notes were passed between desks. 

My science teacher almost dropped her laptop when I walked into her class after English. She too asked if I should be here and then gave me the same sad look when I said everyone was gone when I got up.

I took my usual seat up the back, choosing to sit at the corner of the bench. More glances, more whispers buzzed the room that lesson. Those who were in my last class seemed less phased by my presence, yet still unable to hold their tongues.

“Her mum found her, I heard,” someone whispered.

“I heard it was her dad,” the other replied.

The person in front turned in their seat. “I heard the dad did it.”

We were learning something about rocks today, but none of it sunk in, my ears tuning in to the conversations around me, trying to grasp what was so interesting. But I couldn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together.

When I got to our usual spot at lunch time, I was taken aback to find Evie wasn’t there.

I faltered but then sat down, wondering if she had gotten a detention. I never found out if she was at school though, because, a couple bites into my sandwich, one of the admin ladies was in front of me.

She crouched down beside me and I retracted the toasted bread from my mouth. Same pity etched on her face, brows turned down, she said softly, “May, your father is here to collect you.”

“My father?” I repeated, surprised. My dad hadn’t stepped in a school since my first day of school ever back in Brisbane. Mum was always the one talking to our teachers, handing in forms, and picking us up when sick. “Is my mother here too?”

She shook her head. “It’s just your dad. Get your things and come with me to the office. We will sign you out.”

“But I have an assignment due in my next class.”

“You will definitely get an extension, don’t you worry.”

Fumbling for my belongings, I put my half-eaten lunch back in the carry bag and threw my backpack over my shoulder, clutching the oily paper that housed my sandwich like my crutch. I should have just thrown it out, to be honest. But a part of me hoped, begged, that clinging to my lunch would mean that the growing nauseated feeling in my stomach was an overreaction. That soon I’d be seated, eating the rest of that mediocre ham and cheese toastie.

My dad gave me a small smile when I came into sight, his eyes slightly red. After signing the forms that permitted my leaving, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close against him. 

“Hi kiddo,” he whispered, then looked back up at the admin ladies. “I don’t know when the girls will be back at school, but we will keep in touch.”

“Of course, Mr Moretti. They can take as much time as they need,” the lady who brought me in said.

The sandwich was creeping its way back up my throat. My palms beading with sweat.

Grip tightening on my shoulder as he took a deep breath, my dad guided me out of the office, past the front of the school, and towards his ute. 

After climbing in and buckling up, he paused, hands on the wheel, keys unturned in the ignition.

Finally finding my voice, I waveringly asked, “Is mum okay?”

Head snapping up, his distant eyes met mine in shock. “Your mum? Yeah, she’s fine.”

“Is it Aunt Ronnie?” I said more quietly.

Head tilting to the side, he said, “We will talk about it when we get home. Not here. Your mum is better at… She will know what to do. But I’m fine. Mum’s fine. April is… fine. And Ronnie’s fine. Okay?”

Biting my lip, I nodded, then turned my gaze out the window. What happened?

When we walked in the front door, April and mum were sitting on the couch. My sister was buried in my mother’s arms, heaving heart-wrenching sobs, body convulsing from her cries. 

Mum looked up at our entrance, a pained look on her face as she glanced at my dad then at me. She gave me the same pitied look that all teachers had adorned, then turned back to my dad, shaking her head slightly.

Sighing, dad put his hand back on my shoulder and began guiding me to the stairs.

“What’s wrong with April?” I asked as he nudged me up the steps.

But he didn’t respond until we had gotten into my bedroom, closing the door behind him. “It’s best you wait in here until your mum…” He trailed off and began looking anywhere in the room but at me, eyes red again. Walking over to the corkboard above my desk, he leaned in, studying a picture of me and April when I was four and she was seven. For a moment, I thought I saw his bottom lip quiver, but he turned his head towards the door before he could say anything.

“Just wait here,” he said. “Your mum will be up soon when she’s done talking with April.”

Talking? What I had seen didn’t look like talking. But I didn’t press my father further, not wanting to upset him as he walked out of my room, softly closing the door behind him. I never heard his steps on the stairs.

I laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like forever. I even tried texting Evie, asking if she was at school and letting her know my parents were being weird. But Evie never responded that day.

Unable to take the silence, after almost half an hour of waiting, I climbed out of my bed, creaked open the door, and crept along the hallway. Crouching down at the top of the stairs, I peered through the balustrade down to the living room. April was still sobbing, head in her hands, but she was pausing every now and then to weep her worries.

“It’s all my fault, mum,” I managed to make out.

“No, April, no,” mum whispered, tucking a lock of April’s hair behind her ear, the other arm draped around my sister’s shoulder. 

“It is! Last night, May even told me to talk to her. But I was too dumb. Too late,” April’s words got lost in the lament, her howls finding their way up the stairs and piercing my heart. 

Who and what did this to my sister? The girl I always looked up to? The person so strong, no one, not one thing, ever phased her? 

My hero had crumbled before my eyes. As I sat there, still with shock at the sight of my sister trying to claw at her chest as she gasped for air again, I wondered what I would possibly have to do to see her smile again.