Page 40 of Holding Hope
“I’m not scared of saying her name,” I muttered. “She is your sister.”
Melody giggled as we headed toward the other barn. Usually, Mrs. King accompanied her since it was farther from the house, but today I had the honor of helping.
“Prove it.”
“I’m not proving—”
“If you’re not scared of saying her name, prove it.”
That mischievous gleam again.
“You act like she’ll appear if you say it three times. Like Bloody Mary.”
I snorted, trying to find a way out. Melody wasn’t backing down —a trait she clearly inherited from Clarke.
“I am not—”
“You’re chicken shit.”
“Hey! I can accept being called scared, but chicken shit is where I draw the line.”
I crossed my arms, hip popped out. Melody mirrored me, looking adorable in her overall shorts and striped long-sleeve shirt.
“Then prove me wrong, Kennedy.”
“Fine!” I threw my hands up. “Clarke King! Yeah, yeah, get your laughs out.”
Melody doubled over, laughing so hard she had to brace herself on her knees.
“You should turn around,” she wheezed.
Gravel crunched behind me.
My stomach dropped.
Slowly—painfully slowly—I turned.
Clarke stood fifteen feet away, arms crossed, expression sour enough to curdle milk.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Please tell me there is a valid reason you’re shouting my name before noon. Or at all.”
Clarke’s pointed stare was locked on me, not once flicking toward her sister. At this point, I was convinced pranks ran in the King bloodline—this had to be intentional.
Melody’s continued laughter confirmed it.
Swallowing hard, I tried to conjure a half-decent lie. Nothing came.
Really, brain? Nothing?
“Uhm…” I started, voice trailing off as every possible explanation evaporated. Being tongue-tied around Clarke was nothing new—I was slightly terrified of her. Some nights I pictured her standing over me with her baby-pink guitar, ready to bash me over the head.
“Okay,” Clarke drawled, rolling her eyes before finally turning to her sister. “Have you fed and brushed all the horses in the Deity House?”
It was Melody’s turn to roll her eyes. I snorted. I wondered how many times Clarke had been in her place, rolling her eyes at her brother or father.
“Yes. Why don’t you have more faith in me? It’s getting insulting at this point.” Melody huffed and moved toward the barn cats, leaving me alone with her sister.
