"My mother named my brother. Most people assumed that his name was short for Mortimer or Morton or something, but this being my mom, it was just the Latin word for death. My father pretended that he had agreed to the name so my mother could have her little joke. “My little life and death,” she called us. In reality, Dad had no say in Morte’s name. It was one thing to name me, his baby girl, his first-born, the Norwegian word for life. It was quite another to name his son Death."
Just like their names, Liv and Morte have always been opposites. The two can barely be in the same room together for more than a moment before all conversations turn into fights. It's not until Morte disappears after a typical field party that Liv even realizes that she might actually love her brother after all.
Missing is the tale of Liv's journey to find out what happened to her brother the night he disappeared—to discover if everyone at the field party had really been typical.