Twelve-year-old me smiles. I feel it, the way my mouth grins without permission.
As much as I want to resist, I’ve watched enough memories to know better. I force myself to relax, to let the memory take control. With every breath, I melt deeper into the past, shedding my current self like a second skin. Finally, there is only this one, singular moment.
“Are you looking?” I demand. I’m still grinning as I move forward, tugging my sister Margot by the hand.
She keeps close, her blonde braids swinging between us. My brown hair is tied in a neat bun, fastened with the yellow hair tie she gifted me just this morning. Margot loops her elbow through mine, giggling as we shove through the crowd.
“Oh, not this again,” she groans. “Mama isnotgoing to approve a single one of these and you know it.”
“But look how cute they are,” I say. I squeeze her forearm, pulling her closer to my side. “This green one? Are you kidding? It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.”
“Snakes arenotbeautiful,” Margot says. “And before you say anything else, fish and turtles and lizards are not beautiful either.”
I gasp and swat her shoulder.
“You shush,” I say. I touch the fishbowl nearest me. “This is Graves, and he’s stunning. He wants to come home with us.”
“Graves?” Margot repeats. She leans forward, pressing into my line of vision. “I feel like that’s your subconscious, warning youexactlywhere we’ll end up if you buy this fish and bring it home.”
“He’s only seven hewns,” I say. “That’s practically free.”
“Secora,” Margot says, snorting. “That is far from free. We only have ten hewn, and if you think I’m donating two from my half to buy you this hideous creature?—”
Another gasp. Another swat to her shoulder.
“He’s beautiful,” I insist. “If I don’t get him, I fear I might perish.”
“I fear I might perish,” comes a male voice. It’s pitched and condescending, and I recognize the sneer without looking.
Instantly, my timid excitement, my treacherous comfort, dissolves.
“No one asked you, Harrison,” Margot says. Her posture stiffens as she tightens her hold on me. Then she rotates, as if to block me from view.
I’ve only lived with Margot for a few months. I’ve been her sister—spare sister, that is—for less than a year, but she’s undoubtedly the kindest person I’ve ever known. She’s allowed me to feel like I belong, like the things I say are worth hearing. I’m allowed to joke and tease, to whine and complain. To be normal.
I don’t want her to have to protect me. I don’t want to be her pathetic, orphaned sister. I want to be brave and bold andnormal.
Still, I don’t step out from behind her. I can’t even bring myself to speak.
“I’m not taunting you, Margot,” Harrison says. He’s the same height as she is, but he’s far broader. Wide shoulders, thick arms, astrangely flat face. He’s hideous, though most girls wouldn’t agree. Still, I’m positive it’s true.
He looks like an inbred dog, and his eyes hold an indescribable lack of light, as if his soul faded to darkness years ago.
“You’re too pretty to tease,” Harrison goes on. “Your ugly little stray, on the other hand?—”
“I’m not kidding, Harrison,” Margot says quietly. When I finally get the nerve to step forward, she places an arm in front of me, keeping me in her shadow. It’s where I’ve lived for the past several months, and as much as I’m ashamed to admit it, I like the darkness. The shelter. The protection. Even if I don’t deserve it.
“I’m worried about you,” Harrison says. His voice goes soft, and I think he means it. They dated, after all. He was suffocating and cruel, according to the limited information Margot offered, but it’s clear he cares. It’s hard to hate him for that, even ifI’mthe thing he sees as a threat.
“You don’t need?—”
“She killed her parents,” Harrison interrupts. “Killed them, Margot. Killed the next family she was with, too. Your parents are?—”
“Stop,” Margot snaps.
Harrison doesn’t. He steps closer, forcing Margot, and therefore me, to shrink backward.
“Your parents are fools for bringing that thing into your home,” he continues. “She’ll kill you all, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourselves.”
