The Favorite by Kiera Cass Page B

Tiny and dark in every way except for her spirit, she’d won me over in the first minutes I knew her.
    â€œDo tell,” I replied as I settled into the corner chair.
    Miaka grinned widely at me. “I was thinking about buying a gallery.”
    â€œReally?” My eyebrows raised in surprise. “So, owning instead of creating, huh?”
    â€œI don’t think you could ever actually stop painting,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully.
    I nodded. “You’re too talented.”
    Miaka had been selling her art online for years. Even now, mid-conversation, she was tapping away on her phone, and I felt certain another big sale was in the works. The fact that any of us owned a phone was almost ridiculous—as if we had anyone to call—but she liked staying plugged into the world.
    â€œBeing in charge of something seems like fun, you know?”
    â€œI do,” I said. “Ownership sounds incredibly appealing.”
    â€œExactly!” Miaka typed and spoke at the same time. “Responsibility, individuality. It’s all missing now, so maybe I can make up for it later.”
    I was about to say that we had plenty of responsibilities, but Elizabeth spoke up first.
    â€œI had a new idea, too,” she trilled.
    â€œTell us.” Miaka set down her phone and climbed onto her as if they were puppies.
    â€œI’ve decided I really like singing. I think I’d like to use it in a different way.”
    â€œYou’d be a fantastic lead singer in a band.”
    Elizabeth sat up straight, nearly knocking Miaka to the floor. “That’s exactly what I thought!”
    I watched them, marveling at the fact that three such different people, born to different places and times and customs, could balance one another out so well.
    â€œWhat about you, Kahlen?”
    â€œHuh?”
    Miaka propped herself up. “Any new big dreams?”
    We’d played this game hundreds of times as a way to keep our spirits up. I’d had dozens of ideas over the years. I’d considered being a doctor as a way to make amends for all the lives I’d taken. A dancer, so I could practice controlling my body in every way. A writer, so I could find a way to use my voice whether I spoke or not. An astronaut, in case I needed to put extra space between the Ocean and me.
    But deep down I knew there was only one thing I really wanted. I eyed the large history book that rested by my favorite chair—the book I’d meant to take back into my room last night—making sure the bridal magazine inside was still hidden from sight.
    I smiled and shrugged. “Same old, same old.”
    I swallowed as I set foot onto campus. Unlike some of my sisters, human ears set me on edge. But even now, I could hear Elizabeth’s voice in my head. “You don’t need to stay inside all the time. I’m not living that way,” she had vowed, maybe two weeks into her new life with us. And she stayed true to her word, not only getting out herself, but making sure that the rest of us also had as much of a life as possible. Venturing out was half to appease her, half to indulge myself.
    Our current home was right near a university, which was perfect for me. It meant slews of people wandering around on open lawns and mingling at picnic tables. I didn’t feel the need to go to concerts or clubs or parties like Elizabeth and Miaka. I was content merely to be among the humans. If I sat under a tree, I could pretend to be one of them for hours.
    I watched people pass, pleased we were in such a friendly area that some people waved at me for no reason at all. If I could have said hello to them—just one tiny, harmless word—the illusion would have been perfect.
    â€œ. . . if she doesn’t want to. I mean, why doesn’t she just say something?” one girl asked the crowd of friends surrounding her. I imagined her a queen bee, the others hapless drones.
    â€œYou’re totally