Today we're excited to spotlight The Window by Amelia Brunskill! Read on for more about Amelia and her book, plus an excerpt!
Meet Amelia Brunskill!
If you loved The Third Twin and binge-watched Thirteen Reasons Why, get ready for a heart-wrenching psychological thriller about a girl who knows her twin sister better than anyone . . . or does she? Taut and atmospheric, The Window will keep you guessing until the end.
Secrets have a way of getting out. . . .
Anna is everything her identical twin is not. Outgoing and athletic, she is the opposite of quiet introvert Jess. The same on the outside, yet so completely different inside--it's hard to believe the girls are sisters, let alone twins. But they are. And they tell each other everything.
Or so Jess thought.
After Anna falls to her death while sneaking out her bedroom window, Jess's life begins to unravel. Everyone says it was an accident, but to Jess, that doesn't add up. Where was Anna going? Who was she meeting? And how long had Anna been lying to her?
Jess is compelled to learn everything she can about the sister she thought she knew. At first it's a way to stay busy and find closure . . . but Jess soon discovers that her twin kept a lot of secrets. And as she digs deeper, she learns that the answers she's looking for may be truths that no one wants her to uncover.
He consulted his notebook, scanning the page with a quick glance, and then nodded. “Yes. Something about movies and wine coolers.”
“Movies and wine coolers? Just the two of them?”
“Yes,” the officer said.
“At the station, they asked if Anna had a boyfriend.”
“Yes, and you said she didn’t,” he said. “That’s what all her classmates said as well.”
“I know I said that. But she was wearing a dress. She was wearing perfume—lavender.”
He shrugged. “Girls do that, right?”
“Anna didn’t. She and Lily weren’t planning to hang out by themselves. Lily’s lying.”
“Jess—” Mom’s voice was quiet, measured, and I turned to her, hopeful that she’d back me up on this. Instead, she shook her head. “I know this wasn’t typical for Anna, but that doesn’t mean Lily’s lying. Isn’t Lily dating some boy at school?”
I nodded. “Charlie. Charlie Strumm.”
“Okay, so maybe Lily and Anna thought he and a friend of his might come over, but there weren’t any concrete plans. Or maybe Anna just wanted to get dressed up.”
I stared at her. “Since when did Anna do that? Get dressed up just to get dressed up? Put on perfume?”
“People do that sometimes, sweetheart. People change, try new things—”
“No. That doesn’t make any sense. Anna was going to see someone. She was going to see a boy.” I was positive. Because of the dress. Because of the perfume. Because of something even less tangible that I couldn’t explain.
Mom’s eyes blurred. “Please don’t yell. I know you and Anna had been fighting more recently, and that must make this even harder, but—”
I shook my head, frustrated and confused. “No. We weren’t fighting. I’m not yelling—” Except now I could hear it myself— how my voice had become too loud, too fast—and I could see they’d all stopped listening to what I was saying, only registering the volume and my rising panic.
“Jess . . .” Mom closed her eyes for a second. “Okay, Jess. What do you think happened? Who do you think she was meeting?” I took a deep breath, then another. Slowing myself, trying to make it so that they could hear me again. “I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t— She didn’t say anything to me.” I paused, then turned to the policeman. “Maybe we could check her contacts on her phone? She’d have had that with her.”
“I’m sorry,” the officer said. “Her phone was in her pocket. It’s . . .”
He spread out his hands in front of him, palms up, as if waiting for a delicate way to explain what had happened to a phone that had fallen two stories. We all waited. But there was no delicate way, and so he remained silent, his hands out, unsure of how to finish.
“Maybe you’re right, Jess,” Mom said quietly. The ache in her voice nestled under my skin like barbed wire. “Maybe there was a boy. Maybe there wasn’t. It doesn’t really change anything. It doesn’t matter.”
Dad and the police officer both nodded, as if what she’d said was both hard-won wisdom and a self-evident truth.
But I didn’t nod along. Because I didn’t agree.
Because to me, it did matter.
Because I should have known. Because we were best friends.
Because we were twins.
Because I couldn’t shake the idea that she’d tried to tell me and I hadn’t heard her.
That somehow I’d let her slip away.