To The Grave

Chapter Ten

Before I have a chance to reply or even acknowledge the awkward silence Archer's words cause, Cora appears out of nowhere and grabs at my elbow.

​'If you guys'll excuse us,' she says with false niceties, 'I need to talk to my sister.'

​Miya's lips form the shape of an O as I'm yanked away from the kitchen, my sister's fingernails digging into my skin like a dozen pincers. I grit my teeth, looking over my shoulder and giving Miya an apologetic smile as Cora yanks me out of sight, the action not gentle.

I try to tug my arm back, but Cora's surprisingly strong and her grip holds firm as she leads me through the doorway, past couples making out against walls and into a dark, empty corner of the main room, where the pulsing music seems to momentarily lull and the wave of people partying becomes a distant memory.

​For a second, I just look at her, rolling over what to say. In some ways, I understand why people think Cora and I look alike. We have the same curved nose, the same freckles stippling our cheeks, and our skin goes the same pink hue in the sun. But that's where our similarities end – at our mutual susceptibility to sunburn in the height of summer.

I guess if you'd met us last year, our similarities would be more poignant. You would have noticed how our eyes glittered the same whenever we found something funny, or how Cora was beginning to develop the same white-blonde waves as me. You might even have mistaken us for twins, as others have multiple times. But now?

We're two totally different people.

​My sister is virtually a stranger as she glares at me through her mascara-coated lashes, willowy arms folded across her chest like an awkward ballerina.

'Well?' she asks, voice hostile. 'Why are you here?'

I roll my eyes. 'I could ask you the same question. Who was that guy back there? Your new flavour of the week? I wonder, does Bri know what you're doing at these parties? I'm sure she'd be thrilled to know that her best friend's giving it out like dessert.'

​Cora narrows her glare. 'Bri isn't my girlfriend. You know that.'

​'Oh right, sorry.' I scoff. 'I forgot how fucked up your relationship is.'

'Says the one who can't keep her eyes off Archer Fletcher.'

​I breathe through my nose and tilt my head to one side, hoping she doesn't notice the rush of heat climbing up my skin. 'You don't know what you're talking about.'

​This time, it's her who scoffs. 'Yeah, right. Because Connie Hill is just glaring at you for no reason. Do you know that they're kind of a thing?'

I think back to Archer – how Connie held him with a knowing smile as she gripped his hand in a way that looked too tight for comfort. I think about how I kept catching his blue eyes, how – more often than not – Archer wasn't smiling, even when Connie and Miya were.

​'What's your problem, Cora?' I shake my head, incredulous. 'And why did you steal my dress? Did you think I wouldn't notice?'

​'I didn't think you'd be here to notice.' Cora runs her fingertips along the soft red material, eyes defensive and sharp. 'Besides, you haven't worn this dress in months. It was just collecting dust in the back of your closet.' She pauses, jutting her chin. 'Armani deserves better than to be collecting dust.'

​I resist the urge to roll my eyes again. 'Yeah, well my head would be on the other side of the room if I'd taken anything from your closet.'

​Her eyes narrow. 'You're avoiding my point.'

​'And you're getting on my last nerve.'

​Cora rocks her hip to one side and shoots me a glare that would have anyone else in the room running. Anyone except for me, of course. No, I know how to deal with my sister: by using the same poison she injects into her every word.