Thank you to Pinkpoodle8, Guest, nick2951, RHatch89, Fun With Typing, and Mr Tea the dino for reviewing! I'm glad to know that you all are just as busy and stressed out as I am, haha! And I can't believe that I'm so close to 100 reviews...that is so incredible. Think we can get there this chapter? Please let me know what you think regardless - this is one of my favorites.

Chapter 27

I'm in my room, trying to read a novel for Spanish class, when I hear the front door open and slam closed. Usually this wouldn't concern me or even draw my attention. But the novel is written completely in Spanish, and I only understand about half of it, so I'm glad for the distraction. I hop up and push my bedroom door open, returning to my bed just as footsteps echo up the stairs.

"You have twenty minutes," a gruff male voice that is definitely not my father speaks. "Only pack the essentials."

I sit up, leaning closer to the door to hear, but my ears don't really perk up until I hear my sister's voice. "I know."

She's back? I scramble off of my bed and peek out into the hallway, trying to appear casual. "Hey," I say. "What's going on?"

A man who appears to be an officer, though he is wearing a polo shirt and slacks instead of a uniform, is standing in the hallway. He turns to look in my direction, and the hem of his shirt shifts a little. I catch sight of the gun strapped to his belt and quickly look away.

Mona stops in the doorway to her room. "I have to pack," she says, shooting a look over at the officer. "He's taking me to Radley."

My heart stops for a moment, my blood running cold. Of course, I should have seen this coming, considering she just confessed to a murder and all. But I guess I just assumed that they wouldn't believe her.

I clearly need to stop underestimating my sister's lying skills.

"O-oh," I stammer out after an awkward amount of time. "Um." I pause, wanting to say more, but not in front of the possible police officer. "Why don't I help you pack?"

"Good idea," the man says sharply, cutting in. "We need to get moving."

I smile at him. "I'm sure this won't take long." Then I turn and follow Mona into her room, keeping the smile on my face until I shut the door behind me, spinning around. "Have you lost your mind?"

She leans down, pulling a suitcase out from under her bed. "You shouldn't worry about things you don't understand," she says flatly, unzipping the suitcase and beginning to remove clothes from her dresser.

I fold my arms, my eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "What I understand is that you just confessed to a murder that you didn't commit." I feel my anger growing, and before I know it, I can't stop talking. "How do you think that felt? I'm home alone, Mom's out, and I get a phone call from the police. They tell me that you just walked in, that you're confessing to Wilden's freaking murder. Do you have any idea how our parents felt? How I felt?"

I have to stop, feeling my throat constrict as a sudden rush of tears strains behind my eyes. I close my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath and forcing them back. I will not cry.

Mona looks up at me, and I see guilt flash across her face. "I'm sorry," she says quietly, not meeting my eyes. "I didn't do this to hurt you. Or Mom."

This is not a good enough answer for me. I cross the room, grabbing a shirt out of her hand and setting it down hard. "Then why did you do it? What could possibly have been the goal of doing something so stupid?"

"They don't trust me," she blurts out after a moment of silence, smacking the suitcase closed. "Not even Hanna."

I'm having trouble following this logic. "What? Yeah, they don't trust me either, but that doesn't mean that I've lost my mind."

Mona sighs and rolls her eyes, brushing her hair out of her face. "I did this to get them to trust me," she says slowly, like I'm a child who doesn't understand a simple math problem. "So they'll see we're on the same side."

In that moment, all of my anger completely dissipates into something that I never in a million years thought that I'd feel for my sister…pity. My head spinning, I sit down on the edge of the bed, feeling my brow wrinkle. "Getting those girls to accept you really means that much to you?"

"It's not about acceptance," she snaps a little too quickly, abandoning packing altogether and joining me on the edge of the bed. "They think I'm still involved with 'A.' That we both are. I need to get them to understand that we're not who they should be afraid of."

As I listen to this, the pieces begin to come together. I feel the rest of my anger begin to subside, though the ebbing worry in my stomach is growing larger. "So you thought that this was, like, the ultimate way to show your loyalty. Admit to a crime you didn't commit so Hanna's mom can go free."

"If this won't gain their trust," Mona confirms, fiddling nervously with her hands and staring down at the ground, "then nothing will."

I suddenly feel like I'm about to explode. I stand up and begin to pace back and forth across the room, just for something to do. "I can't believe this," I say, a sharp laugh escaping out of me. "I can't believe you're actually going to be put back in Radley over this."

She walks back over to the dresser and takes out another piece of clothing, folding it carefully before turning back to me and smiling. Actually smiling. And despite the pity that I feel for her, despite my new understanding of what is going on, I've never felt farther from her. "There are worse places to be," she says cryptically, smoothing out the clothes in the suitcase.

"Wait," I blurt out, feeling a sudden chill at the thought that occurs to me. I rub my arms, where goose bumps have suddenly appeared. "You want to go back to Radley?"

"There are answers there," my sister says insistently, shooting a concerned look over at the closed door. I wonder suddenly how thick it is, if that officer has been listening this whole time. Mona seems to have a similar idea, because she lowers her voice considerably. "Everything goes back to Radley."

"I just don't think this is a good idea," I mutter, shaking my head. "There are other ways to get into that place without being a patient. You were sneaking in and out of there for months last summer, why couldn't you have just snuck in again?"

She pulls out her phone, checking the time. "I want to blend in. I don't want to have to sneak around. And anyway, it's only a psychiatric hold. Seventy-two hours."

"Yeah," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes in disbelief. "Until they believe your lies once again and decide that you really did kill Wilden."

My eyes meet hers for a moment, and I see an edge of fear there, that I'm sure mirrors my own. I can't believe my sister is actually willing to go to such lengths for something like this…even if it might mean getting more answers about "A" and Red Coat.

But I have to admit, I can't help but admire her for it, a little. I would never have the guts to pull off something like this. I would have broken down in front of the police during the first minute of my confession.

I open my mouth to say just that, when there is a sharp knock on the door. "What's taking so long?" the harsh voice of the officer breaks the silence, muffled through the wood. "We need to get going, before registration hours are over."

"Just a minute," Mona calls out to him. "I need to make a quick phone call." I smile in relief, glad for the cover story, until she actually pulls out her cell phone.

"Wait, you're actually calling someone?"
"I need to talk to Hanna," she says. "You should go."
I make a face but shrug, heading toward the door. "Fine."

"Wait, Viola." Hurriedly, she grabs a notepad on the desk and scribbles a phone number on it, ripping it off and handing it to me. "Tomorrow morning, you need to call this number. Arrange for a meeting."

My heart sinks. I take the note and crumple it in my hand. "Are you serious? What the heck are you talking about?" I can feel my heart rate begin to speed up – is this some kind of "A" plan? I really thought we were done with that, for good.

"It's nothing bad," Mona assures me, once again reading my mind. "Just trust me. Call her, tell her you're my sister. That's all you need to know."
I really don't like the sound of this. "Why can't you tell me what's going on?" I demand, feeling heat rise to my face, something that tends to happen when I'm seriously annoyed. "If it's that important?"

"You'll find out tomorrow. If I tell you now, you won't agree to help. But I swear, you won't get hurt."
I stare hard at her for a long moment, trying to read her expression. She looks genuine enough, almost pleading, but I know better than to trust my own instinct after everything I've been through.

"Fine," I say finally, heaving a sigh. "I'll do it…but you need to swear to me that this isn't anything bad. Or anything related to 'A.'"

"I already – "

"No," I interrupt, walking over to her desk and pulling open the top drawer. Inside is an old, small sewing kit that I only knew would be there from memory. Carefully, I open it and extract a thin, silver needle. "I mean you need to swear to me."

Before I can think too hard about this, I hold my breath and press the tip of the needle into the pad of my index finger. I wince at the sharp pain, extracting the tiny spike only when a dot of blood appears.

Calmly, I wipe the needle on the hem of my shirt, which is conveniently already red, and hand it to my sister. Without even a hesitation, she pricks her own finger and barely even flinches.

Then we press our fingers together, and I'm instantly taken back to when I was six years old, when we started this stupid tradition, back when we only resorted to this ritual over things like a missing hair brush or the broken lamp in the living room.

Just another way that "A" has completely changed every semblance of normality in my life.

I pull my hand away and wipe off the blood. "Okay," I say, unable to keep from smiling. "Tradition is tradition. I believe you."

Mona smiles back at me, picking up her phone. "I'll be back in a couple days," she says, beginning to type in Hanna's number. "It'll be like I'm not even gone."

I roll my eyes, reaching out to grab the doorknob with my not-stinging hand. "Oh, please," I say as I ease open the door. "You're never really gone."

...

They have a wonderfully messed-up relationship, don't they? Next chapter, Viola makes a mysterious phone call and tries to piece together just what she is supposed to do.