Page 63 of Dark

If I could have taken back the time I screamed at Ellie for eating the entire bag of chocolate kisses Piper sent from Austin, leaving a graveyard of fluttering paper streamers and red, green and silver foil balls stuffed under our comforter, I would have. She didn’t stop crying the rest of the night, both of us knowing the only other thing to eat in our trailer was an ancient can of stewed beets. And didn’t say a word the next morning when her Hello Kitty Barbie woke up with a nose ring.

While I laughed like a sadistic bitch.

Then later, there were boys and betrayals. Crushes and stolen Lollapalooza decals. There was Flufflestiltskin, a cursed cheese puff of a rabbit with a taste for my Doc Martens, and about a million other thoughtless things we shouted at each other without thinking, words I would have yanked back in a heartbeat if I’d had any idea how much I’d come to regret them later.

Because the truth was, Ellie and I were there for each other every time it counted. Period-gate. Algebra-Two, where she laid beside me on the bed night after night, explaining my homework even though her Pre-Cal class was two grade levels above mine. And most of all, the very first time I ever sang alone in public, when she walked a mile down to the park despite sleet and ice to watch me play the ukulele and sing Feliz Navidad.

Sometimes you realized too late that life was short. That you had to hold onto the people you loved like white on rice.

CadburyFunny: I need to talk to you. About Violet.

Heart kicking in my chest like a high school drummer on Red Bull, I stared down at my phone. A kaleidoscope of memories flashed before my eyes. Pad Thai movie nights. Cherry-mango snow cones. Screaming Katy Perry in the backseat of Axel while Piper took us on road trips. Could I even imagine a world without my sister in it?

Tucking my feet under me, I hit dial.

“I know,” my sister said by way of greeting. “And by the way, please remember that I taught myself to read at the age of three, can speak passable Klingon, and can name forty-nine different infectious diseases commonly found in rabbits. It might have taken me a month to figure it out, but I’m not stupid.”

Shit. I blew out a breath, deciding then and there the werewolf council could kiss my fluffy tail. I was done treating Ellie like I expected her to betray me. If my tofu-loving, hummus-eating, Great-Dane-shampooing sister wilted at the sight of one little werewolf, the universe was seriously screwed.

“We shouldn’t really be talking about—”

“Labradoodles?” Ellie suggested dryly.

“—over the phone.” I picked at the cuff of my yoga pants. “Um. How did you—?”

“Your eyes. The fever. And hello, a German Shepherd named Violet that likes Cocoa Puffs? You are like, seriously the worst liar ever.” The line went silent for the longest five seconds of my life. And then— “Are you okay?”

Tears stung my eyes. “Getting there. I’m sorry about our trailer.”

The door to the balcony slid open, Ethan frowning as he took in my expression. From the look on his face, something had happened. Something not good.

“Is Ethan—”

“Yes.”

Ellie huffed, and I could just picture her, a thousand miles away in New York, twirling her hair around one finger as she paced. “Okay. But remember I have Piper’s old softball bat in my closet. And I’m not afraid to use it.”

I snorted. “You tried to join PETA in the second grade. I don’t believe for one second you would hit a mosquito with that thing.”

“And because we all know labradoodles are super-trustworthy—”

“Um, we’re talking about you.” Ignoring the growly sound Ethan made (which, totally not helping), I began ticking off points on my fingers. “You’re a vegan. You cried for a week when we rented All Dogs Go to Heaven. You have a strict catch and release policy for cockroaches. You used to dig celery sticks out of the trash at school and bring them home to the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog—”

“Marigold.”

“—so the Cadbury Bunny would get fresh greens even after those nasty girls called you Smelly Ellie. Because screw them. Bunnies before bitches.”

A beat. And then—

“You could have told me.”

When we hung up half an hour later, my eyes stung from crying. Ethan kissed the back of my neck.

I turned, wiping my eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t know. Something’s up. Brody’s on his way.”

Sinking onto a barstool, I rubbed my temples. “The Council was supposed to be here days ago—”