stood taller. “What’s in the box?”
Brooke blew a
loose strand of chocolate colored hair from her face. “Everything I can’t live
without for the next few days.”
“Uh-oh, what
happened?”
“I don’t feel
like talking about it right now. I’m tired and hungover.”
A bright smile
dug into Evy’s rosy cheeks. “Then you have to come try my latest invention. It’s
perfect for hangovers!” She headed for the heart of the house. “Came to me in a
dream last night.”
Brooke
grudgingly followed her into the sunlit kitchen where the smell of grease mixed
with pancake batter and a Glad Plug-In hidden beneath a breakfast table.
“Here,” Evy
said, holding up what looked like a corndog. “Dip it in that syrup.” She nodded
to a small bowl of maple syrup resting on the island table centered in the spacious
room.
Brooke took it
by the stick and held it up, twisting it in the light. “A corndog?”
“It’s not a
corndog. It’s a sausage link deep-fried in waffle batter.” A proud smile made
her glow. “I call em Waffle Dogs .”
Brooke’s eyes
slowly traveled back to her sister, her forehead wrinkling. “This is what you
dream about at night?”
“Just try it.”
She set it back
on the plate with the others and brushed her hands together. “Sorry, I can’t
put anything in my mouth that even remotely resembles a penis right now.”
Evy tucked her
dark hair behind an ear and set the magazine down. “What’d you do now?”
Brooke dropped
heavily into a tall chair and rested her elbows on the island, massaging her
temples with both hands, unsuccessfully trying to rub away the guilt and pain.
She felt Evy’s hand land on her shoulder and looked up.
“Spill it.”
Brooke gave her
a brief look of dismissive contempt, then inhaled a deep breath and clung to it
for dear life. “Mandy and I got into a fight over something stupid and she kicked
me out.”
Evy’s eyebrows
drew together. “What? Why?”
Her gaze drifted
to the vacation photos covering the stainless steel fridge. “I can’t talk about
it,” she said, bursting into tears. “I just lost one of my best friends and
it’s all my fault.”
Evy frowned and
scooped her little sister up into her arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace.
Brooke buried her face in her neck, a clock softly ticking against the wall.
Evy pulled back and held her out at arm’s length. “What happened?”
Brooke shook her
head, shaking more tears loose.
Evy stared at
her and finally sighed. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure Mandy will get over it.”
Brooke wiped
tears from her face. “I don’t think she will, even though it was all some
horrible misunderstanding.” She looked up, a grim look upon her face. “I’m
afraid she’ll never speak to me again.”
“That won’t
happen.”
“I’m not so
sure,” she replied, breaking down again. “I feel so awful!”
Evy rubbed
Brooke’s arms. “Come stay with me for awhile and we’ll figure everything out.
It’ll be fun. We’ll have a Sex and the
City marathon and eat cupcakes until we get sick.” A comforting smile
pulled on her lips. “Just like old times.”
Brooke
lethargically shook her head. It was all her energy reserves would allow.
Evy glanced down the hallway to the box on the
foyer table. “You want to move back in here?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Do mom and dad
know you’re moving back in with them?”
Her bloodshot eyes
rose to find Evy’s. “Not yet.”
Evy inhaled a
slow breath through clenched teeth and poured Brooke some coffee before topping
hers off. “Good luck with all that,” she said, sliding a black mug with Witch’s Brew printed across it in orange
letters in front of Brooke.
Brooke studied
the trails of steam rising into the air, her mind unable to stop replaying last
night’s events in living color: the punch, masks and music, Mandy driving the
porcelain bus, Ben’s scruffy face, the golden lasso, the questions, Ben’s face,
the closet,
Brooke blew a
loose strand of chocolate colored hair from her face. “Everything I can’t live
without for the next few days.”
“Uh-oh, what
happened?”
“I don’t feel
like talking about it right now. I’m tired and hungover.”
A bright smile
dug into Evy’s rosy cheeks. “Then you have to come try my latest invention. It’s
perfect for hangovers!” She headed for the heart of the house. “Came to me in a
dream last night.”
Brooke
grudgingly followed her into the sunlit kitchen where the smell of grease mixed
with pancake batter and a Glad Plug-In hidden beneath a breakfast table.
“Here,” Evy
said, holding up what looked like a corndog. “Dip it in that syrup.” She nodded
to a small bowl of maple syrup resting on the island table centered in the spacious
room.
Brooke took it
by the stick and held it up, twisting it in the light. “A corndog?”
“It’s not a
corndog. It’s a sausage link deep-fried in waffle batter.” A proud smile made
her glow. “I call em Waffle Dogs .”
Brooke’s eyes
slowly traveled back to her sister, her forehead wrinkling. “This is what you
dream about at night?”
“Just try it.”
She set it back
on the plate with the others and brushed her hands together. “Sorry, I can’t
put anything in my mouth that even remotely resembles a penis right now.”
Evy tucked her
dark hair behind an ear and set the magazine down. “What’d you do now?”
Brooke dropped
heavily into a tall chair and rested her elbows on the island, massaging her
temples with both hands, unsuccessfully trying to rub away the guilt and pain.
She felt Evy’s hand land on her shoulder and looked up.
“Spill it.”
Brooke gave her
a brief look of dismissive contempt, then inhaled a deep breath and clung to it
for dear life. “Mandy and I got into a fight over something stupid and she kicked
me out.”
Evy’s eyebrows
drew together. “What? Why?”
Her gaze drifted
to the vacation photos covering the stainless steel fridge. “I can’t talk about
it,” she said, bursting into tears. “I just lost one of my best friends and
it’s all my fault.”
Evy frowned and
scooped her little sister up into her arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace.
Brooke buried her face in her neck, a clock softly ticking against the wall.
Evy pulled back and held her out at arm’s length. “What happened?”
Brooke shook her
head, shaking more tears loose.
Evy stared at
her and finally sighed. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure Mandy will get over it.”
Brooke wiped
tears from her face. “I don’t think she will, even though it was all some
horrible misunderstanding.” She looked up, a grim look upon her face. “I’m
afraid she’ll never speak to me again.”
“That won’t
happen.”
“I’m not so
sure,” she replied, breaking down again. “I feel so awful!”
Evy rubbed
Brooke’s arms. “Come stay with me for awhile and we’ll figure everything out.
It’ll be fun. We’ll have a Sex and the
City marathon and eat cupcakes until we get sick.” A comforting smile
pulled on her lips. “Just like old times.”
Brooke
lethargically shook her head. It was all her energy reserves would allow.
Evy glanced down the hallway to the box on the
foyer table. “You want to move back in here?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Do mom and dad
know you’re moving back in with them?”
Her bloodshot eyes
rose to find Evy’s. “Not yet.”
Evy inhaled a
slow breath through clenched teeth and poured Brooke some coffee before topping
hers off. “Good luck with all that,” she said, sliding a black mug with Witch’s Brew printed across it in orange
letters in front of Brooke.
Brooke studied
the trails of steam rising into the air, her mind unable to stop replaying last
night’s events in living color: the punch, masks and music, Mandy driving the
porcelain bus, Ben’s scruffy face, the golden lasso, the questions, Ben’s face,
the closet,
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