Annie and Fia by Kiersten White Page A

She threw a fit like a baby when my parents were going out. She actually hid my dad’s keys.”
    “Is it because she thinks you’re too old for a babysitter?”
    “No, no, we like you.” I try to smile, but truth is, it’s starting to bug me that my parents hire a babysitter for us. I’m twelve, Fia’s ten. I can totally handle things.
    Something crashes to the floor, and I’m pretty sure it was glass.
    Well, usually I can handle Fia. She just gets so moody sometimes, and you can’t talk her out of it.
    “Maybe we should—” Heather says, but then her voice disappears and
    I can see.
    I can see!
    I don’t know what’s happening, and my brain feels like it’s going to explode, but I CAN SEE.
    There’s so much light and so many colors that I want to close my eyes to process them, but I can’t. It’s like my body isn’t even here, just my eyes—my eyes that can see !
    There are two people in front of me in strange seats, and we’re moving. A car! I’m in a car! How did I get in a car? I try to open my mouth to talk, but again I can’t do anything other than look.
    The woman laughs and I realize she’s Mom. I remember now what she looks like! But she’s older, and smaller. That must mean the man is Dad, and he looks older and smaller, too, but handsomer than the snatches I remember from before I lost my sight.
    I want to cry—I’m so confused and so happy and so overwhelmed—but I have no control.
    “ . . . don’t know what’s gotten into the two of them today.”
    Dad nods, and I can only see his profile as he stares straight ahead out the windshield. There’s something wrong with outside—not enough colors, everything white and fuzzy and moving. It makes me feel sick to watch it.
    “We’ll have to ground Fia for hiding my keys.”
    “And talk to her about dragging Annie into her little fits. Though I do feel bad we wouldn’t stay home for Fia but we’re heading right home when Annie was upset. Fia has to notice.”
    Dad sighs. “We’ll be careful. I worry about—”
    Mom screams.
    Dad jerks the wheel and everything is spinning around me as I stay in one place, and there is glass and screeching, piercing noise, and then the car tumbles and smashes around me and there is blood and . . .
    No one is screaming anymore.
    “Annie!”
    I open my eyes to the familiar embrace of utter darkness, and the screaming is back.
    Heather shakes my shoulders and I realize I am the one screaming.
    “What’s wrong with her?” Heather asks, her voice panicked.
    “She’s never done this before!” Fia sounds even more worried. “Should I call nine-one-one?”
    I take a deep, shuddering breath. My head feels like it’s going to burst. The memory of light makes my eyeballs ache, and the space behind them is a physical pain. “Mom and Dad! I saw them!”
    “What?”
    “There was an accident! They got in an accident! I think they’re dead.” A low moan forces its way out of my throat and I start sobbing again. They’re dead. I saw it, I was there, they’re dead.
    They’re dead.
    “I’m going to call your parents,” Heather says. She walks out of the room and I can hear her speaking in hushed tones from the kitchen.
    Fia takes my hands and pulls me close, stroking my hair the way I stroked hers when she was little and scared of the dark. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s okay.”
    I freeze. I know Fia’s voice better than my own, and I know the tone in it now. I’ve heard her use it on our parents hundreds of times. “Why are you lying to me?”
    Heather sounds relieved when she walks back in. “I just talked to your parents. They’re fine. They’re going to head home early instead of going to a movie.”
    “They’re okay?” I can’t believe it. I saw it happen. I saw it.
    “Yup! Totally fine. Why don’t we turn the TV back on and I’ll make some popcorn.”
    My stomach turns and I think I’m going to be sick, but I try to breathe deeply. They’re fine. Heather talked to