Sister Pact by Stacie Ramey Page B

come back. I want to stay with Leah. I want to catch her, but Dr. Applegate’s voice destroys my trance and I have no choice.
    â€œFind me. Any way you can.” It’s Leah’s voice saying pretty much the same thing Piper did earlier.
    And then the spell is broken. Leah’s gone, and in her wake there’s just this huge hole inside me. And the questions. Always the questions. Why? Why did she leave me? Why didn’t she take me with her?
    â€œYou all right?” Dr. Applegate asks.
    I don’t answer. I can’t. I’m sitting here totally broken, completely defeated. I concentrate on breathing. Just breathing.
    â€œYou went very deep.” She sits ramrod and writes in my file. “Sometimes it’s hard to pull out of that.”
    I barely register what she’s saying.
    She leans forward, concern painted across her brow, deep lined and ugly. “Allie? Are you back?”
    I sit up straighter and lick my lips. My mouth is so dry. I take a drink of Gatorade and try to clear my head. “Yes.”
    â€œOkay, Allie, time’s almost up. You did really well today.”
    I sit there, numbed and mute, wondering what the eff just happened and if any of it was real. Leah and her promises and her games. She’s still playing them even though she’s dead.
    â€¢ • •
    The minute we get home, I rush upstairs to my room. Sophie barks at my heels, and I pick her up. Together we lie on my bed. She kisses my face, which is in full migraine mode. I pet her so she’ll lie down and close my eyes to try to stop the pain.
    Sometimes distracting myself helps. I send my mind back to the memory I saw in Dr. Applegate’s office. I’m careful not to read anything into it, but I let it play out as if it’s happening, buying time till the headache pill Mom gave me in the car starts working.
    We were in Leah’s room that day. Mom had been crying in the bedroom; we could hear her all the way down the hall. Dad’s steps were confident, strong, unquestioning. Leah was painting her nails I’m Not Really a Waitress red. I was sitting on her window seat. She let me stay in her room that day. She always did when it was bad.
    Dad’s footsteps stopped at the doorway. I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. “Here,” he said, slipping in the room just enough to put an Apple bag on the bed for Leah and one on the floor for me. “Take care of your mom,” he said. Then he was gone.
    We listened to him walk down the stairs and out the door. I remember how heavy the air felt as I tried to wrap my head around the fact that this time, it was really it. This time he was gone for good. He chose her over us. Not just Mom. Us too. I started to cry.
    â€œYou have to accept it,” Leah said as she began unwrapping her new phone. “It’s not going to change. May as well benefit.” She showed me the shiny new case Dad included with the phone. “Can’t say as I blame him anyway.”
    I sat there, floored. Leah always did that, surprised me. I stood up and opened the window seat, grabbed our battle plan book. I flipped through it, looking at all the entries we’d made over the years. The skirmishes fought in our family war documented by me, the foot soldier. I looked up at Leah. “How’s our arsenal doing?”
    â€œActually, I’m thinking of scrapping the mission,” she said, still working on her phone.
    Just like that. But I guessed that was the prerogative of the general.
    â€œI’m serious.” She nodded to the book in my hand. “We don’t need that anymore. Things are going to get better now. With Dad gone, things will get better.”
    â€œHow can you say that?”
    She sat up and looked me in the eye. “Promise me you won’t think about it. It was a stupid idea. We were stupid. Promise me.” As a foot soldier, she didn’t want my opinion, only my obedience. Then she