I stay where I am, rooted in place, staring at this new rift, open and pulsing, when my phone begins to buzz.
I pull it from the pocket of my leggings.
The screen is alight with messages.
From Twig.
From Dad.
From Harper and Naomi.
One after another after another.
Lainey Sikes—a girl I watched combust into flame and vaporize into ash—has been found alive.