My alarm beeped. No, not beeped—screamed.

I groaned in frustration and reached out for my phone, tapping anxiously at the screen until the screaming stopped.

I hadn't had a hangover in a long time, and I didn't really have one now, but damn, I was tired. I would have given anything to stay in bed just a little longer. Just another five minutes... Maybe ten... I needed the sleep...

It felt like seconds later when I awoke again, but some internal clock told me things weren't right. The light had shifted in my bedroom, and I was feeling better rested. That could only mean one thing.

“Crap! I'm late!” I hissed, looking down at my phone. My alarm had gone off almost an hour ago. “Crap, crap, crap, crap...”

I flung the blankets to the floor and launched myself out of bed. I was supposed to have left for work three minutes ago. There was no way I was going to make it there on time. I ran haphazardly around my room, shoving a toothbrush in my mouth and my hair into a bun as I texted my boss and told him I was going to be a little bit late. I hadn't been late before, so I hoped it wouldn't be a big deal. The last thing I wanted to do was screw up this opportunity.

Being an assistant set designer didn't pay great, but I'd worked hard to get where I was, and I loved what I did. There was more room for advancement, but I was happy where I was, quietly in the background of the movie set. I finally felt like I'd found my niche in life, and I didn't want to do anything that might ruin that.

I quickly bustled out into the living room, where Chelsea was still asleep on the couch with her arm over her head. I swooped down to pick up her empty wineglass to put by the sink on my way out, and my foot connected with something hard as I turned. I swore under my breath. The suitcase! In the dim lighting, I hadn't seen it, but how was I supposed to know it was there in the first place? Why couldn't she have tucked the damn thing beside the couch instead of leaving it out for me to trip over?

Chelsea stirred, but definitely wasn't awake. I decided to move the suitcase now, before she woke up and did the same thing. The hard black case was lying on its side; I grabbed the top handle and pulled it up. As I did, the zipper gaped, and its contents spilled out onto the floor.

Except it wasn't clothes or toiletries that fell out.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

I rubbed my hands over my eyes to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, all thoughts of rushing to work lost. I wasn't seeing things. The cash was real. It was secured in fat bundles with thick elastics, all in fifty and hundred-dollar bills. Some of the wads were on the floor, but I cracked open the suitcase to see that there were even more inside.

My heart raced, my pulse pounding out a staccato rhythm in my veins. Where had Chelsea gotten all this money? What the hell was going on?

“Chelsea!” I hissed. “Wake up!”

She groaned and rolled to face the back cushions. “In a minute.”

“Chelsea!” Not knowing what else to do, I bent and grabbed one of the stacks of cash and chucked it at her head. It hit the mark and bounced off onto the cushion behind her mess of red hair.

At first, she probably didn't realize what I'd thrown, but the second she did, Chelsea sat up straight and stared at me with wide eyes.

“What the hell is going on, Chelsea?” I gestured to the cash strewn on the floor. “What is all this?”

She gulped, and I could see her try to push her emotions back under the surface. It wouldn't work. Chelsea was always much too easy to read.

“It's vacation money,” she explained. “I just wanted us to have a good time while I'm here.”

“Vacation money?” My voice had risen a few octaves, now. I was pissed. “You expect me to believe this is vacation money? Chelsea, why are you here? What did you do—rob a bank?”

“Of course I didn't rob a bank!” she cried. “That’s insane, and almost impossible; it’s not 1920!”

“You’re not funny, Chelsea! What the hell am I supposed to think?” I gestured wildly at the money, as if either of us could have forgotten it was there. “What would you think if I suddenly showed up on your doorstep with a suitcase of cash? How much money is here, anyway?”

She rose to her feet and stepped towards me, placing her hands on my shoulders. Even though she was trying to calm me down, there was a wild look in her eyes. Whatever she had done, it was a big deal, and she knew it. Whether or not she was ready to admit that to me yet.

“It's not as big of a deal as you think,” she pleaded.

Liar!

“Chelsea.” My tone was low and warning now. “I've missed my call time, and you have no idea how bad that is… so you’d better tell me what's going on, before I beat it out of you.”

I would never touch a hair on that girl's head, and she knew it. We hadn't been the kind of siblings who constantly fought with each other. In fact, we'd been each other's' best friends until our paths diverged in our early twenties. I was probably closer to smacking her right now than I'd ever been in my life.

“Okay, relax.” She brushed imaginary dust off my shoulder and tried on a relaxed smile, but it was lopsided and insincere and I felt my anger simmering. “Remember how awful my job was?”

Was? Oh dear. I already knew I wasn't going to like where this was going.

Chelsea continued, “Well, it's been extra awful, recently. I was going home crying more days than I could count. My coworkers were a bunch of soulless, spineless jerks, and I'd had enough. So, I told my manager I was going on vacation, but I actually dipped into the funds a little and skimmed a bit off the top before I got out of town.”

“You embezzled money from your employer?” My face was hot with rage. This was a mess. This was a big, freaking mess.

“Shh!” she hissed. “Why don't you scream it out for the whole island to hear? I'm on the run, you dodo! And embezzling is such an ugly term.”

Leave it to Chelsea to not be able to be serious about something as serious as this.

“I guess I just missed the part where this was all okay somehow,” I muttered. “What are you doing here?”

A pained look crossed Chelsea's face. “Well, it’s not like I planned it. The whole thing was a bit...impulsive. You were the only person I could think to come to, especially since I knew you were in the Bahamas. It made sense at the time. And hey—” She punched my shoulder affectionately. “I'll give you half the cash if you're willing to help me out of this, uh, tight spot.”

“Tight spot?” I gritted my teeth. “You think this is just a tight spot? Chelsea, it's a serious felony!”

“Which is exactly why I need my sister's help!”

I wrenched myself free from her grip and took a few steps back, using the space to breathe a little.

In. Out. In. Out.

This was, without a doubt, the craziest thing my sister had ever done. And, like every other crazy thing she did—which was usually just bungee jumping or a sketchy restaurant—she was trying to rope me into helping her clean up the mess.

“I can't help you, Chelsea!” It pained me to say it. I wanted to protect her—of course I did—but this time, she'd gone too far. “I can't be involved in this. I'm sorry. I think the best thing for you to do is to go turn yourself in. They're going to find you, eventually.”

“I can't turn myself in.” Chelsea shook her head decisively. “No way, Megan. I won't do it. I'm not going to jail. I feel like it’s not as exciting as it looks on TV.”

“Then you shouldn't have stolen the money!” I spat. “How much did you take, anyway? Do I even want to know?”

Chelsea smiled sheepishly. “It was only a hundred thousand dollars. I'm sure they won't miss it.”

Christ. At least it could be worse—she could have stolen two hundred thousand dollars.

“Please, Megan. Help me out. I'm begging you.” Chelsea pressed her palms together in supplication, blinking up crocodile tears in her big, blue eyes. I knew they weren't real tears, because neither Chelsea nor I were big criers. She hadn't even shed a tear when she’d broken her arm in the eighth grade.

“I can't. Chelsea, you've gone too far this time. This is a big deal. I can't get caught up in this with you.”

She winced. “Uh, well... You already kinda are.”

My heart leapt up my throat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly that,” she said. “You're technically harboring a fugitive... Not to mention, since we're identical, they could very well haul you in too. The only option that makes any sense is for us to disappear together.”

I couldn't believe my ears…or my eyes. Actually, I could. I could believe that Chelsea would do something unbelievably stupid and selfish based on some idiotic, impulsive whim. Why was she always so goddamn irresponsible? I'd thought that when she’d gotten this job—the first grown-up job she'd ever had—she would start acting a little more mature.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down, trying to let the panicked emotions swirling around my brain drain out with each breath. But they kept swirling, faster and faster until I was ready to explode.

“How could you do this to me?” I screamed. “How could you knowingly ruin your life like this? What about my life? Do you have any idea what you're asking me to give up?”

Chelsea slid away from me, plopping back onto the couch and looking down at her hands as her fingers clenched and unclenched in her lap. She was silent for a moment, lips trembling. Then the dam burst, and she started to sob.

I knew this was real. Chelsea couldn't cry on command like this, and even if she could, she knew better than to try it on me. I always knew when she was hiding something from me, but there was no hiding the raw anguish of her sobs as she shook against the cushions.

“I'm so sorry,” she said, her voice distorted and hoarse. “I'm so sorry, Megan. I didn't mean to put you in this position. I wasn't thinking. I never wanted to hurt you. I never even intended for you to find out. I was going to leave, find somewhere to start fresh, y’know?” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, but all that did was smear her already smudged makeup even more. “I'm going to have to get a new identity and as get far away from the States as possible. If anything...” She hiccupped. “If anything, I was coming here to say goodbye.”

My heart broke, right then and there. I'd never seen Chelsea so distraught, and because of that, I was torn. The logical side of me, which coincidentally was the side that usually got the most use, told me to kick her out. The sooner the better. That way I'd have reasonable deniability if anybody ever tried to associate me with my sister’s crimes.

Oh, God. My sister's crimes.

My sister was a criminal.

Even if she looked like the most pathetic criminal there had ever been, it was the truth. Her hair was a rat’s nest of ginger bed-head, her eyes were puffy and pink, and black mascara and eyeliner stained her cheeks. She needed me. She'd never needed me more. I couldn’t turn her away now. Could I?

I wanted to protect Chelsea. I always wanted to protect her, but this was different. We weren’t hiding bad grades from our parents, or covering up a broken piece of pottery… this was jail time.

This was too hard of a decision to make right now. I had to get to work. Just because I would lose my job when I was implicated in my sister's embezzlement, that didn't mean I needed to lose it now.

“I've got to go to work, Chelsea. I'm really late.” I grabbed my keys from the counter, which I'd been heading for when I first knocked over the suitcase. I wished I'd never knocked it over in the first place. Then I could be blissfully unaware of everything going on. Plausible deniability.

“What do you want me to do?” Chelsea asked, sniffing. “Do you...do you want me to go?”

I sighed. “No. Don't go. We can deal with this when I'm finished with work, okay? But for right now, stay here. I mean it. Don't leave, and don’t spend any of that money!”

Chelsea nodded, a faint smile ticking at the corners of her lips. “Thanks, Meg.”

“Don't thank me yet,” I muttered, halfway to the door. “I haven't even decided what I'm going to do with you yet.”