CHAPTER 1
When I was little, I’d wanted to be exactly like my older sister. She was pretty. Smart. Favored. There was a seven-year age gap between us, long enough that the answer to the question of “what do you want to be when you grow up?” had always been the same: my big sister, Destelle.
Now at seventeen, as I regarded myself in the bathroom mirror, I knew one thing for absolute certain. I was something my older sister never was.
“P-E-R-F-E-C-T,” I spelled aloud, lips tracing each letter. I brought my eyeshadow brush up, sweeping it across one closed eye while the other was laser-focused on my reflection. Multi-tasking, looking for any trace out of place. “I-M-M-A-C-U-L-A-T-E.”
Each letter manifested in my mind like it was made out of sand, rapidly dissolving into the next letter, and then the next. The act of spelling the words out aloud, letting them fill the silence, soothed me, almost enough tochase away the tremble in my fingers. A habit I’d had since I was little, when I’d still had to fight to impress my mother.
Now, it was the other parent who seemed to have forgotten I existed.
I’d been blending the brown eyeshadow for the past five minutes, taking my choppy smokey eye look and turning it bruise-like. If this were Halloween makeup, it’d do wonders. But for Senior Night at Alderton-Du Ponte, the most exclusive country club in Connecticut, on the biggest night of the year for high school graduates? My eye makeup would be more than embarrassing—it’d be turned away at the door.
And I had to look my best. This night was big in more ways than one.
“I-D-E-A-L,” I spelled a little louder.
I’d been looking forward to Senior Night at Alderton-Du Ponte practically since the school year started. The country club—one of the biggest in the state, the board of trustees would boast—dedicated a night to the upcoming graduates to brag about their achievements and college plans. It was a night that would do many things, all at once.
First off, it would pull Dad from the pit he’d fallen into since mid-March, finally forcing him from the house after cooping himself up like a recluse. The last case he’d taken on as a Superior Court judge had shaken him. Badly. But he’d come out of hibernation for me.
Second, it would introduce me to the Pembletons—specifically, Dr. Pembleton, one of the advisors for Mullhound College. Dad’s alma mater. Soon to be the campus I called home. I already had a stellar connection with Dad, but getting aninwith Dr. Pembleton? My future asthetop defense attorney in the state of Connecticut would be untouchable.
And third, a more recent addition to tonight’s itinerary, I’d meet Mr. ASMR, the owner of my favorite Study With Me YouTube channel. Unexpected, but I’d have enough time to squeeze him into my plan.
On that list, Dad was the only person I already knew, but the one I was most terrified of.
So many things to do. So many things to look perfect for.
P-E-R-F-E-C-T.
“It’s unbecoming of a woman to obsess about her reflection so much.”
The slightly sarcastic voice was one I knew as clearly as my own—the only other voice in the universe I swore I could hear in my head. “And it’sunbecomingof aboyto barge into his sister’s bedroom without knocking.”
I turned from the bathroom mirror to see Jamie, my twin brother, walking further into my bedroom. He was already dressed for Senior Night, wearing a loose white Malstoni dress shirt tucked into a pair of dark brown slacks. He even had a navy tie around his neck, tangled like a knot rather than looking proper. “The door was open.”
He was right, of course. My bedroom doorandmyattached bathroom door were both swung wide. “Not for your sarcasm, it wasn’t.”
Jamie tipped his dark head of messy waves as he sat on the edge of my bed, as if sayingpoint to you.
I turned back to my reflection. Really, the only thingwrongwas my eyeshadow. I inherited my mom’s straight dark hair, so there wasn’t a frizzy strand in sight as it hung straight over my shoulders. The dress Mom had picked out was a Malstoni, a dark green one that came to my knees with sleeves that capped delicately over my shoulders. Perfect for Alderton-Du Ponte.
Flawless, except for the shadow. I could just hear Mrs. Johnson in my ear now. “Why, did you get into a fight, dear? Haven’t you learned how to apply shadow properly yet? Shall I see if Lydia can give you some tips?”
Lydia. My archenemy who I’d rather die than be compared to.
I all but slammed the brush down on the sink counter and reached for my makeup remover wipes. I’d just start over. At this point, I’d probably have better luck.
“Spell inevitable,” Jamie said suddenly.
I replied without even thinking. “I-N-E-V-I-T-A-B-L-E. Inevitable.”
“Spell superintendent.”
“S-U-P-E-R—” I stopped, realizing what he was doing. “I’m fine, Jamie. I’m not nervous at all.”
“I don’t know why you lie to me. I can always tell.”
