Amy was a holy terror.

Teddy really had not exaggerated her wrath one bit. In fact, he may have understated it. Now she wasn't worried about Amy killing them so as much as she was worried about Amy performing medieval torture on them.

Jo wasn't about to admit that she'd forgotten a present. Oh no, she didn't want to see that blow up in her face.

She'd arrived in Concord just as the party was beginning. All of the family was there as were many of Amy's school friends that Jo couldn't stand.

Leaving New York had been hard. And awkward. She and Fritz had exchanged the most awkward goodbye ever. Neither were sure what to really say to each other at all. Goodbye had never been so difficult before.

When she'd gotten to Concord, Jo had gone right up into her attic. It used to be such a refuge to her.

It felt like a ghost town now. She hadn't been up there in quite some time. Obviously, no one else had either. It was full of dust and musky air. Probably Marmee's doing. Jo always hated people disturbing her things.

It was like walking into the past. Memories sprung into her mind from every item in the room. They all held a story.

They all held her past.

Jo went over to her writing desk right under the attic window. In the front lawn she could see the party. Amy was bustling about in her light blue party dress trying to entertain everyone.

Her attention moved back to the small desk. It was covered in papers. Unfinished stories and old plays that she had written. Jo took a seat and leafed through them all.

The Masked Man

By Jo March

She smiled to herself. They'd put that on for Christmas a few years ago.

The Princess's Corpse

By Jo March

Another one of her plays acted out by her sister.

A Recipe for Red Velvet Cupcakes

By Beth March

Jo's hand quivered as she read her sisters loopy little handwriting. She remembered this. Beth had tried to write her own story, but couldn't think of anything so she just wrote down a recipe.

Beth had been so apologetic. She said she tried, but nothing she wrote seemed any good. Jo was the writer, after all.

It wasn't fair.

Beth shouldn't have died. Beth didn't deserve to have died.

Jo shouldn't have gone off to New York. It was Jo who'd broken the promise that they would all be together forever.

"You haven't been up here in a while," said a voice from the doorway. Marmee's footsteps made creaking noises and she made her way over to Jo.

"I know," Jo sniffed and pushed all the papers back together. "I was just looking for...I'll get back to the party." She stood up briskly, turning to walk out the door.

Marmee smiled meekly, "I know you miss her. I miss her too."

It took everything Jo had not to burst into sobs. "Marmee... Do you think... Do you think that if I hadn't have gone to New York Beth wouldn't have died?"

"Jo," Marmee placed a hand on Jo's shoulder. "You aren't responsible for what happened to Beth."

"I changed everything, Marmee! I went off to school and I left Beth behind! I said we'd always be together and now we're not ever going to be!" Jo gasped for air. "I've been so selfish. I didn't think about my sisters, only about myself. I'm selfish."

"You're not," Marmee's voice was stern. "Jo, you are the most selfless woman I know. Beth wasn't lost because of you. You had to go to New York. You had to find yourself."

Jo wiped her eye, "I haven't found anything. I can't even write. My fire is gone."

"I assure you, it's not," Marmee said with that smile so kind you felt you didn't deserve it. "I think you have found yourself, Jo. I just don't think you've realized it." Marmee tucked back a piece of Jo's hair that had fallen from her braid. "Come down and join the party if you'd like."

Then Jo was alone.

Alone in her silly, musty old attic.

A smile hit her face when she remembered Christmas all those years ago. The year before they'd met Teddy.

Dad had just gone off to Afghanistan and money was tight.

"It's not fair," Amy had said with her usual pout. "Caroline's family is going to Disney World for Christmas and we can't even afford presents!"

Meg agreed, "I really needed a new dress for Annie's party."

Jo had looked up from her writing, "And I guess I won't be getting that Fitzgerald book collection I wanted."

Only Beth, sitting happily said, "Well, we have each other. Isn't that enough?"

Jo dropped the notecard in her hands.

That was it. This was the story she needed to tell. Her story. Her sister's story.

Like a mad woman, she dashed for her computer and began typing. It came so easily to her. Everything. Every little detail.

Yes. Everything was right here. Everything she told her sisters that she would give them was right there. All of them together forever.

"JO!" Amy cried shrilly from down the stairwell. "Get out of your stupid attic! It's my birthday and you're ignoring it!" Stomping her feet like a toddler, a disgruntled Amy came into her room. "Oh," she softened. "You're writing."

Jo just nodded, "Your present in on my desk."

"My present?" There was an eagerness in her voice. Amy walked over and paused. "The Princess's Corpse. Oh, God. I remember this! I was Lady Violet! Yes, I loved this one." She picked it up, touching the pages gingerly. "Can I really have it?"

"Yep. Just leave me alone for a while. I'm writing."

"Okay," Amy agreed, knowing best to leave her sister alone.j

Jo kept typing not paying attention to her aching fingers. Not paying attention to her growling stomach or the setting sun.

She had a story to write.