Page 11 of Such Sharp Teeth

“Reaps!” I hear Scarlett call from downstairs.

The dog ignores my sister, committed to mean-mugging me.

“Reaps, you want a treat?” she calls up.

He narrows his eyes, abandoning his post only at the sound of the treat bag opening.

I groan and roll out of bed. I sniff my sheets, myself. Hospital, with notes of wet dog. My new signature fragrance.

“I also want a treat,” I whine, clomping down the stairs.

“She wakes! Perfect timing,” Scarlett says, slicing the bread to reveal a perfect swirl of black poppy seeds.

“Cut me one thick.”

“Mm,” she says, obliging. She slides it onto a pretty glass plate. “Milk?”

“Yes, please.”

Poppy seed bread is a comfort food for us, a childhood treat for days off from school or birthday breakfasts. We’d eat it and then smile at each other, modeling the black specks stuck in our teeth.

“Ash called,” Scarlett says. “She wants to come over tomorrow.”

“All right, good by me,” I say.

Not like I have anything else to do. I’m two weeks into my leave from work and starting to get bored.

Scarlett sits on the stool beside me. “I told her about Ian.”

“What about Ian?”

“That you saw him and that you should go out with him.”

“I already said I would,” I say, shoving a piece of bread into my mouth.

It tastes weird. There’s something off about it. It’s gummy. Acrid. But I’m not going to say that to Scarlett, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until right this moment, so I swallow it anyway.

“Why are you tag-teaming me on something I already agreed to?”

“He’s had a crush on you forever! You have to admit it’d be a great story.”

“I was never interested in him like that,” I say. “How is it a great story? The world beat me down, so finally I was like ‘All right, guess you’ll do.’ ”

“You’re impossible,” she says, sighing. “Let me live vicariously through you.”

“I’ll hang out with him but I’m not promising anything else,” I say, mouth full.

I don’t know why I keep eating this bread. What I could really go for is a burger.

“Fine, that’s fair,” she says.

She holds up her glass of milk, and I meet it with mine.

“What are we cheers-ing?”

“Your impending marriage to Ian Pedretti.”

I roll my eyes so hard, I get dizzy.