My room feels empty when I return to it later in the morning.
:
June didn’t come back; I had Jessica pack her things and bring them to the clinic.
1 fussed with the bag, making sure she had everything she needed, especially Bun Bun.
When it was finally time for her to go with Penny, I hugged her so tight she couldn’t breathe. She was sweet enough not to mention it this time, though.
I had a hard time letting my sister go. It felt like if I did, she would never come back to me. But I had to remind myself that not everyone is out to get me, and she would be safe–maybe even happy–in Penny’s home.
Penny promised I would get to talk to June often to see how she was doing, and even though I knew it wouldn’t be enough, I thanked her. And I held on to the tears until the silver sedan disappeared around the bend.
Now, the room feels much too big, and although nothing has changed since I was last here, somehow, I don’t recognize it.
I barely have a minute to wallow in my feelings when the door bursts open.
I spin on my heels in time to catch Eliza as she catapults into me. “Oh, April!”
My body eases, and I wrap my arms around her waist, resting my head on her shoulder. “Hi,” I whisper.
“I was so scared,” she sobs, her whole body trembling. “We heard what happened to June, and then you didn’t come back, and I thought something happened to you too, but nobody would allow me to see either of you, and I was out of my mind with worry. I kept imagining you in the most awful scenarios and-”
“Shhh.” I gently pat her back, soothing her. “I’m okay. June is okay. Everything is okay.”
She chuckles through her tears. “I should be the one comforting you.”
I smile as we pull apart. “Consider me comforted,” I say, wiping away her tears. “That’s enough crying.”
Eliza sniffs. “What about June? Is she still in the clinic?”
I shake my head, feeling the pang of loss all over again. “She’ll be staying with…a friend for the rest of the competition.“.
Eliza exhales. “Good. She got hurt too many times in this place. I don’t like it.”
I sigh, plopping onto the bed. “Yeah.”
Eliza joins me and takes my hand. “How are you, April? Really.”
I lean against her, dropping my head on her shoulder. “Honestly?” I close my eyes. “Angry. Sad. Exhausted.”
She pats my hand soothingly. “No one would blame you if you left the competition, April. There are twelve girls, but everything seems to happen to you. That’s not normal.”
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I sniff. “Yeah, I know.”
I know I have a target on my back. I know sending June away doesn’t remove that target. If anything, it has refocused solely on me.
Any sane person would hightail it out of here before another ‘accident.‘
But…
Worry about me, and I’ll worry about you. We’ll take care of each other.
I’m not leaving. Not without Nathan.
I straighten and turn to Eliza with a bright smile. “I’m staying.”
“April-”
I squeeze her hand. “Sister–wives, right?”
A tear slides down her cheek as she squeezes my hand. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Sister–wives.”
*****
61
You know that feeling when you walk into a room, the chatter fades, and you just know they were talking about you? That’s how it feels, stepping into the ballroom in the evening.
Every eye turns to the door as I walk through, Eliza in tow.
I freeze under the weight of their gazes, feeling a slight panic. Eliza squeezes my hand, bringing me back to myself.
“Come on,” she whispers, tugging gently.
I let her lead me to the gathering in front of the stage, trying my best to ignore the curious stares.
Almost as if he’d been waiting for me, Easton climbs the stage.
“Now that we’re complete,” he says, looking at me pointedly. I resist the urge to return his look with a glare.
He scrolls through a tablet. “I will now announce the scores of the charity competition.” He squints as he continues. “You’were judged based on creativity and theme, teamwork, and whether or not the fundraising goals were met.”
“Jamie Wallace, Eliza Kinsely, and Savannah Sloane,” Easton reads from his tab. Then he looks up. “Your theme was excellent; the talent show not only involved the children but caught the attention of the patrons. You worked seamlessly together with barely any hiccups, and you surpassed the final goal set. Well done. You three come in first place.”
Eliza attempts to stifle her excitement for my sake, but I smile at her. “Congratulations.”
Easton moves on. “Bea Dichesare, Rachel Timmons, and Willow Brent. Your renaissance–themed party for the library was a bit unconventional, but it drew patrons who wouldn’t ordinarily be interested in literature, and you met your targets. You come in second.”
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He clears his throat. “And coming in last: Lara Ellington, Valerie St Claire, and April Farrah. Your theme was fun and all–inclusive. However, your execution was sorely lacking. You didn’t have control over your surroundings, and you failed to meet your target.”
Harsh, mirthless laughter fills the room.
All heads turn towards the sound–towards me.
“Miss Farrah,” Easton says through clenched teeth. “Is something funny?”
I shake my head, dry giggles still spilling out of me. “No, nothing’s funny. Actually,“–I place my hand on my chest-“I feel quite remorseful. I’m sorry my sister’s head injury disrupted your pretty little charity event. It must have been such an unappetizing and traumatic experience for everyone present, which is why they refrained from making further donations. Next time, we’ll make sure to add ‘attempted murder‘ when making a predictive risk analysis of an event.”
Easton’s face turns red. “Miss Farrah, your sister’s accident-”
“Don’t you stand there and call what happened a fucking accident,” I snap.
He lets out an enraged gasp. “Are you saying someone-‘
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”
My words send a ripple through the girls, and today might be the day Easton’s face explodes.
“Be careful throwing accusations around, April.”
I scoff. “Or what? You’ll bash my head in, too?”
Easton exhales slowly. “I understand the last couple of days have been traumatic for you, but the Ashfords-”
“Can go fuck themselves.”
This must have been what Gracie felt when she bared her soul–liberated, light.
But unlike Gracie, I’m not doing this to precede a dramatic exit. I’m doing this to send a message: I won’t be strong–armed into submission. If the Ashfords think they can use sneaky methods to get me out of the competition, they have another thing coming.
Because, unlike Gracie, I’m not bowing out.
I’m staying, and I’m winning this fucking competition.
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