Tess loved her mother dearly and trusted her with most of her secrets, but she had always been a daddy's girl. In that moment, she wanted to talk to no one but her father.

Wiping away her tears with her sleeve, she reached with her other hand for her phone and tapped into her contacts. For anyone else, she might just send a text, but Tess did not text her father; not any more. So she tapped on the contact photo of her father wearing a headband with star antennae. It had been his attempt at a tooth fairy costume from a couple Halloweens ago.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang, and then it cut to voice mail.

Howdy. This is Dr. Robert Morrison. If this is a dental emergency, please leave a message at the tone and then immediately call Dr. Crutchley at 855-555-4471. One of us will be in contact with you as soon as possible. If this is not a dental emergency, but your problem still relates to your teeth in some way, shape, or form, please call Riverwalk Dental at 855-555-6589 during normal business hours, which are, uh, 9:00 to 5:00, Monday through Friday. That's Eastern time. Which reminds me: if you're one of my, uh, my Minnesota patients, sorry; I've moved to a new clinic in the great state of Virginia. Assuming you don't have time for the, uh, 20-hour commute, you may want to look up another dentist. Thanks. ... Oh! And if this has nothing at all to do with teeth, then yes: go ahead and leave your message and I'll listen to it, probably.

Tess rolled her eyes. Even at the worst of times, her dad's dorky sense of humor made her smile. When she heard the beep, she said, "Hey, Daddy." Something about saying those words brought her full circle; the tears started again. Doing her best to control her quavering voice, she continued, "Please call me when you get this. Thanks."

She hung up, staring at the darkened screen of her phone for a few minutes and waiting for him to call. She seldom had reason to call her father, but she was surprised he hadn't answered. Usually when she did call, it was important.

Leaning back against the bench, Tess looked out over the darkened parking lot. It must be close to closing time; customers were filtering out of the store, and none were coming in. A few cast curious glances her way, but no one stopped. Tess felt alone and scared.

Desperate to make contact with her dad, she tapped into her messages and scrolled through them. Her dad's name wasn't among the most recent text conversations she'd had. She started a new conversation and entered a few letters—D-A-D—

—and a conversation popped up in her text history: Dr. Dad & Jules.

Tess stared at her phone. Her heart had stopped.

Dr. Dad & Jules.

Her finger moved without her conscious decision and tapped the link that would take her to the group chat. The most recent several lines popped up onto her screen. Unable to help herself, Tess scrolled back to the beginning of their messages from that day over a year ago.

Thu Dec 22 2016 6:44 PM

[DR. DAD] Girls are you on your way?

[TESS] just leaving now

[DR. DAD] ! just leaving NOW? As in you are still physically located at the house?

[TESS] don't look at me I told her sehd be late. she spent an hour on her hair I guess they have to wear it a certain way and she wouldnt let me help. Oh and she almost forgot her shoes.

[DR. DAD] OK well your mother and I are here. The instructor came looking for her and I said she was on her way so please do not dally dear children

[TESS] starting car

[JULIA] dad omg tell Jen I am on my way we will be there in 20 min and Tess would not have been able to do my hair this is not my fault they wanted us to do a BALLERINA BUN because it is bALLET !!!!!!!!!!!!! and she cant even do a MESSY BUN !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[DR. DAD] how do I do the movie picture thing I want to make one of Captain Picard smacking his face with his hand

[JULIA] DAD RUDE. I'll show you after the recital

Thu Dec 22 2016 7:09 PM

[DR. DAD] Girls, ETA? Instructor is worried. Mom and I are worried. You might miss this show Juliebear

[JULIA] almost there

[DR. DAD] most excellent.

Thu Dec 22 2016 7:17 PM

[DR. DAD] Julia Nadine Morrison, you have about 3 min or you will miss curtain for sure

[DR. DAD] Your mother is hyperventilating about you out there on the roads and I can only doctor teeth.

Thu Dec 22 2016 7:25 PM

[DR. DAD] Julia, if you ignore my call again I will have stern words for you young lady. please tell me where you are.

[DR. DAD] One of you is gonna have to pick up this phone

[DR. DAD] girls

Her father had not been able to fill in the blanks in that text exchange. But Tess could. Even when she didn't want to, she could.

***

Tess turned the key in the ignition as Julia tapped out a lengthy text message in the passenger seat. "You're gonna break your screen if you text any harder," she said.

"Whatever." Julia slumped back into her seat and frowned at Tess.

Tess rolled her eyes and checked the rear view mirror, beginning to back out of the driveway. "You're welcome."

"You didn't have to be mean about it. It's not like you're the most organized person in the world."

"I just called you a scatterbrain, Jules. It's not even mean. Get over it. You would have forgotten your shoes if it weren't for me. Good luck dancing on pointe barefoot." As she turned into the quiet street, Tess squinted out the windshield. "God, I hate driving in snow."

"Yeah, well. One year, four months until I can get my permit, and you won't have to drive me anywhere ever again." Julia looked out the passenger side window.

"We have a countdown now? Okay, awesome. You still have to drive with someone, genius. That's why it's called permit and not license."

"Well, it most certainly won't be you."

"Shucks. What am I gonna do with myself," Tess said flatly. She shot a dark look at her sister.

Julia could be such a diva sometimes, especially when it came to dance. Tess had never had a graceful bone in her body and didn't really see the point of flouncing around in fluffy skirts in front of an audience composed entirely of suffering family members. And Tess was in a bad mood that night because her father, who had terrible planning skills, had scheduled their mother's Christmas present—a couple's massage—halfway across the flipping city on today of all days. They'd been unable to come home to pick Tess and Julia up, and thus, Tess was tasked with driving her pretentious little sister to her stupid dance recital.

In the snow.

As Julia settled into a sullen silence, Tess focused on the road. The snow was coming down, obscuring her ability to see. It was uncomfortable to drive without a clear view of the end of the block, and Tess knew the roads were going to be slick. She had experience driving in snow and ice, of course—pretty much every Minnesotan racked up the snowy miles early on in their driving experience—but that didn't make it easy. Or fun.

Julia reached over and switched on the radio, turning the stations until she got to her favorite. The latest hit blared through the speakers.

"No." Tess reached over and switched off the radio.

"Why do you have to be so difficult all the time?" Julia snapped.

"Driver gets to choose the music. And I need to concentrate on the road."

Julia crossed her arms and muttered something underneath her breath.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Julia, what did you say!"

"I said you always get like this when I'm going to do something fun." She twisted in her seat to level a glare at Tess—a glare Tess could only partially appreciate, torn as she was between her quarrel with her sister and driving. "You always do. It's like you can't let me do anything I enjoy without ruining it. This was going to be the perfect night."

Out of the corner of her eye, Tess saw Julia reach up to smooth the immaculate ballerina's bun she'd taken what felt like years to perfect. Julia was a perfectionist about many things, dance most of all. She had spent countless hours working on her routines for this recital, even after practice ended.

And if Tess were honest with herself, she did enjoy watching Julia dance. There was something magical about seeing her baby sister up on stage. She became almost another person: no longer an annoying, artsy-fartsy girl obsessed with being the best at everything she did, but instead a powerful young woman whose body was an extension of her passionate nature and her irrepressible soul.

It was just hard to appreciate Julia's passion for dance when she, Tess, was the one who had to ferry her back and forth to practice, to recitals; she, Tess, was the one who had to listen to Julia rambling about poses, foot positions, and costume selections. She, Tess, was the one who had had to suffer through more musicals than she could stand without puking on family movie nights, and had nodded and smiled through too many YouTube videos featuring too many ballerinas from too many countries around the world.

But she had the presence of mind to feel guilty, because maybe Julia was right. Maybe it wasn't enough to appreciate Julia's dancing in theory. She could probably do a lot more in practice to support her sister.

Her incredibly annoying sister.

"You're being a baby. It's not like you were thrilled to come to the science fair last year," Tess snapped back. "And you think I'm boring because I like math."

"You are boring!"

"We'll see in 20 years who's the boring one, when you're eating cup noodles and I have a retirement fund," Tess said. "I'll be an accountant or an analyst and you'll be a cashier doing community theater."

A silence descended in the car. Tess did not look at Julia; she told herself she needed to focus on the road. But when the silence stretched out for a little too long, she glanced at her sister and realized that Julia had tears in her eyes.

"Jules," Tess said. "I'm sorry."

Julia did not respond. Tess took the exit toward the interstate and stepped on the accelerator, wishing this night could just be over.

Their phones buzzed, both of them at once, and Tess glanced down at hers where it was tucked between her knees. "That might be Dr. Dad," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

Without responding, Julia unlocked her phone. She tapped a quick message and sent it and then threw her phone back into her bag.

"Julia, I'm sorry for what I said. That was out of line."

"Yeah," Jules said dismissively.

"It was."

"Yeah. Well. When you're 50 years old and have a pile of cash, just try not to pity me too much for doing what I love. I'll be just fine."

Tess sighed, and silence descended again. She glanced at the clock. 7:10 PM. They were at least 10 minutes away from the theater, and Julia had been required at 7:00. She turned on her blinker and edged into the passing lane to get around a car going 45 in a 65. Normally, she'd follow the speed of traffic, especially in the snow, but she did not want to be blamed for Julia missing the recital she'd been talking about non-stop for weeks.

At 7:12, Tess merged back into the right hand lane. Just as she turned off her blinker, their phones buzzed again.

Julia ignored it.

"Want to get that? It's probably Dad. Tell him 5 minutes," Tess said.

Julia didn't reach for her phone. She sat with her arms folded, staring out the window at the flurries of snow swirling down from the dark sky.

"Jules."

No response.

"Julia, for God's sake," Tess said. She picked up her phone and tapped it to see who the message had been from. She glanced up at the road just in time to see a pair of tail lights looming up before her.

Cold shock splashed over Tess. In a split second, she realized two things: First, she would not be able to stop. And second, if she turned left into the traffic speeding by, she'd be side-swiped or hit from behind.

She wrenched the steering wheel to the right, slamming on the brakes at the same time. The guardrail loom before her.

Julia screamed.

The world shattered.