Be careful what you ask for.
When digging deep, you may uncover bodies.
Maisie's life has been falling apart since her older sister went missing years ago without a trace. With a dead father and a mentally unstable mother, the teenage girl ha...
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-MAISIE-
I STARE AT myself in the mirror, my hands smoothing down my dress. It is pink and has a pattern of white flowers. The skirt hits my mid-thighs in a flow-y way and the cleavage is heart-shaped. It makes me feel like a princess.
Kitty purrs on Isla's bed and for a moment I let my eyes close. I invoke her Carolina Herrera's perfume, high-pitched voice, and easy smile. Put on some gold earrings. Change those high hells for vans, you will be more comfortable. Mess up your hair a little bit.
I do grab a pair of small gold hoop earrings. And I run my hands through my hair, messing it up a bit. I don't change my shoes.
Opening the closet, I look for a white coat. None of mine seems fit. My eyes find one of my sister's, knitted and puffer and a favorite of hers. My heart constricts, and I have to swallow down a lump in my throat.
With shaky hands, I grab it and walk back into the middle of my room. Looking at the mirror on the wall, I put the coat on. I can hear Isla in my mind—her eyes narrowed and lips plucked up. Don'tyou dare think about it, she would have said. I chuckled, knowing that eventually she would have backed off. Fine, whatever. But don't you dare to ruin it. And well, have fun I guess.
God, how much I ache to have shared moments like this with my big sister.
My heart goes from hurting to jumping to my mouth when my door is pushed open. I drop the coat on my chair and look at my room's threshold. My second oldest brother's tall frame stands there.
"Logan!" I cross my arms. "Don't you know how to knock?"
He rolls his eyes. "Shush."
"Out," I hiss.
But of course he doesn't. His pupils take me in, jaw clenching. "What the fuck are you wearing?"
I have to hold back a scoff. Making a show out of it, I put on a really thoughtful expression. I even tap on my chin, head tilted.
"Hmm," I murmur. "I think it is called a dress but I might have to check on that"—and then, putting on a smile—"now out."
Logan shakes his head, hand going through his shoulder-length locks. "It's freezing today."
"You are wearing a t-shirt."
"Go put pants on." He points to my closet.
"No." I stomp on my foot. "Out."
Logan lets an exasperated sigh.
"Alasdair wants you to check your texts," he says.
I roll my eyes but do it nonetheless. I walk to my nightstand and grab my phone. My oldest brother has left me almost a dozen messages. I breathe out and read all of them. Long story short, Al is freaking out about my date. To say the least.
