THE SANDMAN ☞ TRAVIS STOLL

SIXTEEN

VALERIE GREENWOOD IS AN excellent actress. She has been since she was old enough to walk and talk.

However, lying to socialites and teachers and acquaintances has never hurt like this.

Pretending to be happy and alright and lively has driven a knife into her chest and twisted, and it twists even more with every beaming smile she gives Travis.

She has seen her father, either in her dreams or on the street, hiding within the bustling crowds, every day that they have been in the city. His stark white hair stands out no matter where she sees him, and she is forced to hide the panic that rises up in her throat each and every time.

So as she sits at a table at a fancy brunch place, Josslyn across from her with a pinched expression, she pretends that everything is fine.

"It was nice of your boyfriend to offer to watch Eli." Josslyn says around the rim of her coffee cup. She takes her coffee just like their mother does—a dash of cream, two spoonfulls of sugar, and piping hot.

Valerie has given up on arguing. "When you mentioned brunch, and that Jonah was back in Connecticut this week, he jumped at the chance. He thought we could use some bonding time." She says the word bonding as if it means the same thing as dental work, and her eyes scan the restaurant. "He's nicer than I'll ever be."

She feels Josslyn's scrutinizing gaze on her face. "Why do you seem mad about that? The fact that he's nice to you and does things to make your life easier, I mean." The eldest Greenwood Girl asks, her voice a measured cadence that doesn't waver or shake.

"Because I'm not used to people doing that for me."

Valerie nearly jumps out of her skin when Josslyn sets a diamond ringed hand on her arm. "Val, can I be honest with you? Brutally honest?"

It takes a large amount of effort not to snort, because Josslyn Greenwood-Fisher has never been anything but brutally honest. "Sure, Joss." She says, half because she wants to know what her sister has to say and half because she knows it's inevitable.

Surprisingly enough, there is sympathy in Josslyn's blue eyes. "I know you haven't had it easy. You had a rough childhood, and I'm sure the doctors and psychiatrists were more than a kid should have to go through." She pauses, steels herself, and allows the media-trained facade to slip away for the briefest of moments. "What I want to say is that I'm sorry. For not being patient when you had a foot in both worlds. For not taking the time to know the person you were growing into. For not asking about your other life."

Something hot and uncomfortably dizzying builds behind Valerie's eyes. "Please stop." She whispers.

"I want to know you, alright? Who are you, as an adult? Tell me about camp. Tell me about your...is it a cottage?"

A bursting laugh comes out of Valerie. "My cabin. It's, um, it's dark gray on the outside, but it has stained glass windows all around, and a stained glass door. I designed the whole thing myself, so it's just one big room with a bed and all my records and a couch and band posters." She says, the words flowing more easily now.

It's so strange to hear Josslyn asking about her life when she's never been remotely interested before. It's even stranger to see her genuinely smile, nodding along to every word that comes out of Valerie's mouth.

Josslyn takes a sip of her coffee. "Tell me more. Tell me about the kids you train. Are any of them as good as you?"

Rolling her eyes, Valerie shakes her head, bronze-brown hair brushing against the small of her back. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course they're not. No one's as good as me." She says, and a conspiratorial smile overtakes her face. Being normal feels surprisingly nice. "I have a couple kids that are really good. Like, Pete? He's great. It's a shame he wasn't old enough to fight during the wars, because he could have made a difference."