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dreams, to skirting around that very thing she’d always been
too afraid to admit to herself that she desperately needed
because she was too busy being ice instead of being human.
She’d encased her dreams in a wall of that ice.
Even that night, she hadn’t been able to muster up the
proper amount of hate when she realized what Coralyn had
done, and so she’d made herself lash out in anger because that
was the familiar response, but she knew even then that she’d
somehow stumbled into something priceless, a treasure that
she’d done nothing to collect, but one that had come into her
life anyway. That night, she’d lost her edge and she knew it,
and she hadn’t been able to encase herself in the proper
amount of hardness ever since. What she’d felt that night had
been the beginning of a wondrous serious of contradictions.
From the guy she’d sent to report back on Coralyn, she
knew exactly where she was headed.
She even knew what number to buzz when she got there.
She didn’t stop buzzing until she was sure the buzzer might
actually be broken. Then she used common sense and got out
her phone and dialled Coralyn’s number. There was no answer.
She’d probably turned her phone off.
Giana did what any sane person in her situation would do
and ran her finger along every single little yellow button on
the row, up and down, up and down, pressing all of them, and
there must have been at least forty. Finally, some guy’s angry
voice drifted over the crackli
ng intercom.
“Do you know what fucking time it is? Wrong fucking
number, asshole.”
She pressed the speaker button. “I’m so sorry. I’ve locked
