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The yarn pulls so tightly I can see it cutting into Sig’s hand. Calloused though they may be from a lifetime of climbing rocks and wrestling bears or whatever the hell he gets up to, he grimaces in pain.
Someone’s shoulder joint gives a sickening pop. Adrenaline courses through me, and the next thing I know, I’ve got both hands in front of Sig’s, but it’s not enough of a hold to do any good.
I can pull Flora up if I reach more of the yarn and persuade Sig to let go. He may be bigger than me, but I’m twice the weight of our baby sister.
“Let go, Sig. I’ve got her.”
With a curse, Sig tells me to shut up, and tugs with his good arm. The yarn is so taut it’s cutting into his flesh to the point of bleeding. I’m not a soft one by any means, but no one has more callouses than Sig.
“Etienne!” I cry out. “We need you!”
“I can help!” Etienne shouts with uncharacteristic, unbridled excitement.
I don’t dare take my eyes off my sister, who’s looking up at me, her big brother, to save the day.
“I’ve got hold of the yarn! Let go before you dislocate your other shoulder, Sig, you idiot.” Etienne sounds authoritative for the first time in his life, and I feel a flash of pride.
Neither of us looks at Etienne, but Sig snarls in pain as the wool slips through his other hand. “I can’t hold it!”
Sig refuses to let go, but Etienne is shouting. “I’m anchoring it! I’ve got it; you can let go.”
Meanwhile, security and hotel employees are scrambling, five stories below us, on the plaza, to clear the area to make way for a rescue squad. Revelers are instead insisting that they can catch Flora if she lets go. But we all know that won’t end well for anyone.
“Don’t make me regret this, Etienne!” Sig releases the yarn, and we turn to look at our brother. Etienne holds the unfinished sweater and his grip, looking proud of himself.
A fresh wave of panic surges through me in that instant when we all realize—too late—that the yarn is unraveling itself row by row by row by horrifying row at an alarming speed.
I don’t hesitate. I run inside the building, shoving past the guards, bounding down five flights of stairs. I burst through the hotel doors and prepare myself for the worst moment of my life.
But the worst moment never comes.
Someone has caught Flora.
Setting aside my shock and disbelief, I close the distance between myself and the unknown citizen holding my sister, intending to thank him profusely. This is like trying to run headlong into a maze, until people realize who I am.
The crowd parts like the Red Sea, and there before me is Flora. Alone, clutching one needle.
I catch up to her and shield her from the gawkers. Her frame trembles in my arms.
“Brother, I’m okay.” Her eyes are wide and look right through me. She’s in shock, not wholly aware of herself.
“Who caught you?”
Flora’s face is ghost white as she shakes her head. “He’s gone.”
I glimpse a tall, dark-haired fellow ducking his way through the crowd, away from us.
I try to bring her back to earth with a joke. “Thank God someone made those needles for you. They should be commended.”
She shakes her head again.
“How did that man catch me?”
My sister is shaking like a leaf, so there’s only one thing to do. I scoop her up and begin calling out for a medic.
2
Hailey
