Three
With a startled gasp, I woke up tangled in my blankets on the floor. Then groaned immediately after, moving to hold my side as I realized it was in pain from falling off the bed.
Why am I on the floor?
"Last call, Em. Get. Up," came Elena's surprisingly chipper voice.
I squinted my blurry eyes, seeing my sister towering above, holding onto the corner of my blanket. "Why'd ya do that?" I murmured, burying my head in the blanket.
"I've already tried three times to wake you up, and you wouldn't."
"Whaa… no you didn't…" I yawned out, rolling onto my back and stretching my arms.
"Yes I— ugh. Really, Em? You're the one who wanted me to wake you up early." Despite the annoyance in her voice, I could see a bright smile on my sister's face. I furrowed my brow at the contradicting sight. "This is the last call. I won't wake you again."
"Okay, okay. Getting up. For real," I added at Elena's pointed glare. Which was starting to look weird with the smile…
With more of a skip in her step than her usual stomp after attempting to wake me up, Elena went back through our adjoined bathroom.
"That… was unusual." With a shake of my head, I looked outside the window. The sun wasn't even up yet. The things I do for my friends…
With a mighty groan of effort, I stood up and quickly got dressed in jeans and my favorite Foo Fighter band t-shirt, then entered the bathroom to brush my hair and teeth before Elena took her shower.
When I was done, I went down the hall to knock on my brother's door.
"Jeremy, you read—" Before I could finish, Jeremy swung the door open, walking right past me without a single glance.
"Let's go."
Okay, then… Good morning to you, too.
Driving Matt's truck felt a little surreal—like I'd stepped into a parallel universe where I was suddenly the reliable one. Jeremy sat in the passenger seat, his leg bouncing anxiously as we sped toward the Donovan house. I glanced at him briefly, the tension in his jaw and the way he kept clenching and unclenching his fists saying more than he ever would aloud.
When we arrived, I told him to wait in the truck. "I'll be quick," I promised, and he gave a stiff nod.
The house was eerily quiet as I stepped inside, making a beeline for the bedrooms down the hall. Matt's room was surprisingly spotless for a teenage boy. His bed was perfectly made, clothes taken care of, and everything was in its rightful place—trophies from every sport he'd played lined a shelf, gleaming beneath a thin layer of dust, with his football gear stacked neatly underneath.
His school bag sat by the desk, thankfully already packed with textbooks, folders, and notes. My eyes lingered for a moment on a framed photo on the shelf—a younger Matt and Vicki grinning and hugging after his first football game. The sight of Vicki bloody and deathly pale flashed through my thoughts, but I brushed it off and focused back on the bag, adding a fresh outfit, deodorant, and whatever else I thought he might need. But as I turned to leave, my gaze landed on the door across the hall. With a sigh, I slipped into Vicki's room.
Hers was the exact opposite—clothes scattered everywhere, an unmade bed buried under a tangle of blankets, and a graveyard of makeup products and crumpled receipts littering the dresser. A sticky-sweet mix of body spray and weed lingered in the air, making me wince. On her nightstand, next to an open bag of Sour Patch Kids, were a couple of empty prescription bottles that I tried not to think too hard about. Shaking my head, I grabbed one of her tote bags from the floor, and stuffed it with clean clothes I found in her dresser. She'd definitely want something decent to wear after getting discharged.
Back in the truck, I tossed the bag onto the seat between us. Jeremy glanced at it, clearly recognizing the girly design. He didn't say anything, just gave me a small nod before looking back out the window. I caught the brief flicker of appreciation in his eyes, though, and figured I'd press my luck by pulling up to The Grotto a few minutes later for coffee and donuts. Jeremy didn't argue—probably because I handed him a black coffee before he could complain about the wait. I even splurged on a matcha latte for myself because, frankly, I deserved it.
We certainly needed the caffeine today. Neither of us had gotten much sleep. After Matt texted sometime after midnight to say Vicki was stable, I'd barely managed to close my eyes. Jeremy was in the same boat, judging by the dark circles under his eyes and the way he practically inhaled his coffee during the drive to the hospital.
When we finally got to the receptionist desk, the nurse there didn't seem inclined to let us visit. Her tight smile screamed rules are rules. Jeremy was very close to blowing up at her.
"Visiting hours don't start until eight," she said firmly.
Jeremy's voice was tight. "But we have to be in class by then—"
"Hospital policy," she interrupted, clearly unimpressed by his argument.
This was not going to end well. Sensing Jeremy's temper about to snap, I stepped in with a tragic, disarming smile. "Oh, come on. Please? Five minutes, tops. You wouldn't want to be the reason two traumatized students miss school after such a horrible event, would you?"
Her lips pursed, but I could see her resolve wavering. There it was—the guilty downturn.
She looked around briefly, then sighed. "Alright, fine. But ten minutes only."
"Thank you so much!" I said, giving her my best you're the true hero here smile. We followed her instructions to Vicki's room, Jeremy shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.
"What?" I asked, glancing at him.
"Still good at guilt-tripping people, huh?"
I grinned, unable to resist the smug tilt of my head. "What can I say? Middle child syndrome. Had to have some skill up my sleeve to survive you and Elena."
Jeremy snorted. "Yeah, and you're still abusing your powers, apparently."
"Abuse?" I gasped in mock offense. "Excuse you, I use my powers for the greater good. It's basically a superhero thing. With great power comes great responsibility, you know. And I am very responsible."
He raised an eyebrow. "You stole that from Spider-Man."
"It's not stealing. It's recycling. I'm environmentally conscious. Another hero thing," I said, sticking my tongue out at him.
Jeremy shook his head, but his lips twitched with the barest hint of a smile. "You're ridiculous."
"And you're welcome," I shot back, grinning. At least he seemed a little less tense now. Small victories.
When we reached Vicki's hospital room, Matt was slumped in the chair beside her bed, his neck bent at an angle that made my neck hurt just looking at it. His head lolled slightly as he slept, dark shadows under his eyes hinting at just how rough his night had been. Jeremy immediately went to Vicki's bedside, his eyes scanning her pale face and the clean bandage on her neck. Without all the blood from last night, she looked a lot better—still pale, but stable.
"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey," I chirped, swinging the bag of donuts in Matt's face. He stirred, groaning softly as his eyes blinked open, glassy with sleep.
"Or donuts and coffee," I added with a grin. "Which, let's be honest, is a way better wake-up call. Except for the coffee, I mean. Blah!"
Matt sat up slowly, wincing as he rubbed the back of his neck. Before he could fully process what was happening, I shoved the disgusting coffee into one hand and a delicious donut into the other.
"Em, you came," he mumbled, still half-asleep, then immediately yawned.
I scoffed. "Of course I came. If I have to suffer through school, so do you."
He downed the coffee—probably cold by now, but he didn't seem to care—and devoured the donut like a man starved. Before I could blink, he was already reaching for another.
"How's she doing?" Jeremy asked, breaking his silence as he stood by Vicki's side. I was actually surprised he'd waited this long to ask.
Despite being a little confused at my little brother's presence, Matt just sighed heavily, looking over at his sister. "She lost a lot of blood," he replied, running a hand through his messy hair. "The doctors want her to stay another night to make sure there's no infection, but she's gonna make a full recovery."
Jeremy nodded, his attention back on Vicki's sleeping form. Matt didn't push for an explanation about why Jeremy was here, and for that, I was ridiculously thankful. I wasn't in the mood for explaining that one.
After polishing off his second donut, Matt stood up and turned to face me. He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm so sorry for ignoring you, Em."
I rolled my eyes again, but there was no real heat behind it. "You already apologized last night, Matt."
"Yeah, I know." He shifted on his feet, looking down briefly. "But I also know how much you hate drunken confessions, so… I wanted to say it again. Sober."
His voice dropped, quieter now. "The doctors said if it wasn't for your quick thinking last night, Vicki would be in a lot worse shape—"
"Okay, that's enough of the gloomy talk," I cut him off, shoving his shoulder. He blinked, startled, and I grinned cockily. "What can I say? Dad was a doctor. Of course I inherited his awesomeness."
Matt chuckled, but he still didn't look directly at me, and honestly, I was glad. It gave me a second to school the guilt off my face. No matter how much he told me it wasn't my fault, I couldn't stop replaying the events of last night in my head. But the last thing I wanted was to pile my guilt onto his.
"It's all good, Matt," I said, forcing a lighter tone. "Vicki's fine now, and she's going to stay fine. Now it's time to focus on you." I tossed his bag at him, and he caught it clumsily. "Get changed. You're driving us to school."
"Thanks, Emie."
"Anytime."
The ride to school was quiet. Even though I wanted to fill it by asking about the animal attack on Vicki and if the police had made any progress, I held my tongue. The last thing Matt needed was to spiral into a bad headspace right before school began.
As we walked up to the entrance together, Elena descended upon us like a hawk spotting prey. Jeremy took one look at her and bolted, clearly not in the mood for her interrogation. At least he was heading into the building and not away—I considered our deal done.
"Why didn't you tell me you and Jeremy went to the hospital?" Elena demanded. "I would've gone with you."
I groaned inwardly. Tell the truth, or don't tell the truth?
Elena put her right hand on her hip, her eyes narrowing in that don't even think about lying to me way she had.
Lie it is.
"Wouldn't have been enough room in the truck," I said with a shrug, trying for nonchalant.
Her eyes narrowed further. "Then why did you invite Jeremy and not me?"
"He wanted to come," I explained. "Jer was the one who found Vicki, after all. Plus, we needed you to bring the car so we'd have a way home later. I'm not up for walking today."
Elena pursed her lips, a telltale sign she knew she was being lied to. Thankfully, she dropped it, probably because Matt was standing awkwardly beside us and she didn't want to be rude.
"How is she?" Elena asked, her tone softening.
I took my chance to escape, backing up slowly. "I'm gonna head to my locker—catch you two later!" I waved over my shoulder and made a swift retreat into the school before Elena could press further or, worse, Matt could thank me for the millionth time.
A moment later, I spotted Bonnie and Caroline a few steps ahead and picked up my pace to catch them. I arrived just in time to hear Caroline ask, "So I'm confused. Are you psychic or clairvoyant?"
"Yer a witch, Bonnie!" I shouted in my most terrible British accent, jumping between them. Both girls startled, their faces a mix of surprise and irritation.
"Emery!" Caroline glared, swatting me on the arm as I grinned triumphantly.
Bonnie shook her head, though I caught the corner of her mouth twitching.
Too easy.
"Technically, I guess," Bonnie admitted, easily fitting me into their conversation. "At least, that's what Grams keeps saying. Apparently, my ancestors were these really cool Salem witch chicks or something. Grams tried to explain it all, but she was looped on the liquor, so I kinda tuned out. Crazy family, yes. Witches? I don't think so."
I turned to Caroline, nodding sagely. "Don't listen to her—she's totally a witch. She just won't admit it because she knows we'd abuse her powers to do our homework and get us free food." I nodded at my reasoning, before realizing I could tie in another Harry Potter reference. "Oh! And it's against the law. The Ministry of Magic would have her head if she told us muggles."
Bonnie rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the last part. "Yes, because obviously those would be at the top of my to-do list if I were a witch."
"Yeah, well, feel free to add conjuring the name and number of that guy from last night to the list," Caroline interjected, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
I leaned toward Bonnie, stage-whispering, "A new victim already?"
Bonnie snorted in amusement.
"I heard that!" Caroline sang, shooting me a look. I grinned innocently, standing straight.
"I never saw the guy," Bonnie said with a shrug. "Why didn't you just talk to him?"
Caroline's face fell slightly as she gave her own shrug. "I don't know. I was drunk."
I raised an eyebrow. In that case, it was probably for the best.
I sat in the brightly lit art studio for my Painting III class, surrounded by the faint scent of acrylic and oil paint, mingling with the stronger smell of turpentine. The room hummed with quiet energy—brushes tapping against palettes, the rustle of canvas fabric, and bursts of laughter and chatter from a group near the back. My eyes were fixed on the blank canvas in front of me, its stark white surface mocking my lack of inspiration.
I dipped my brush onto the palette, swirling colors into half-hearted mixes as I tried to coax an idea to life. The first assignment of the semester was supposed to be a self-expression piece, but all I could express right now was frustration. Nothing I thought of felt right, and the harder I tried, the more my mind rebelled. It didn't help that I'd left my sketchbook filled with all my potential ideas at home this morning—a rookie mistake, and one I knew better than to make.
A flash of movement caught my eye.
A few easels away, a group of guys were talking loudly, tossing paint tubes back and forth like they were at gym class instead of an art studio. One of them called out for a specific color, and another responded by launching it across the room. Their laughter rang out, careless and free, punctuated by jokes and half-hearted protests when a throw went wide, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Not at their questionable paint-throwing skills, but at the ease with which they seemed to exist here. Though, let's be real—most of them were probably just goofing off. Sharing the studio with beginners was one of the perks of taking advanced classes. Nothing like working alongside people who signed up for an easy A rather than any actual passion for art.
I tried not to scowl as one tube flew over my easel, wishing our teacher, Sonia, would return from wherever she disappeared and put these idiots in their place.
With a frustrated sigh, I turned back to my canvas and dipped my brush into a deep Prussian blue, hoping that maybe the color would pull something out of me. But just as I was about to make my first deliberate stroke, a rogue tube of paint shot through the air, colliding with my hand.
The brush slipped, and a jagged streak of blue slashed across the pristine canvas like some kind of bad abstract painting.
"Oh damn! My bad, Emery," a voice called, dragging me out of my stunned silence.
I looked up to see Levi—a guy I recognized from last year's Sketching class—hurrying over with his hands raised in surrender. His usual easygoing grin was replaced by a sheepish look as he bent to pick up the offending paint tube. "Seriously, I didn't mean to—uh, launch an assault on your masterpiece."
I blinked at the canvas, the jagged line of blue splitting its once-pristine surface. "Masterpiece?" I muttered, deadpan. "Sure, let's go with that."
Levi straightened, clutching the paint tube like it might fly across the room again. "I'm really sorry." His voice carried enough sincerity to take the edge off my irritation, but I couldn't stop the frustration bubbling up. Not necessarily at Levi—it wasn't like he'd meant to interrupt—but at the canvas now marred by an ugly streak.
Or… improved? At least it wasn't blank anymore.
I gave him a curt nod, brushing off his apology and turning back to the canvas. Disappointment settled in my chest as I stared at the accidental mark, trying to decide how to work with it.
Levi, apparently undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm, leaned in to study my canvas. "Abstract touch? Bold move," he teased, clearly relieved he hadn't actually ruined a masterpiece.
I shot him a look, my lips twitching into a sarcastic smile. "Very avant-garde, I know. Watch out, modern art world."
Levi chuckled, his confidence growing now that he could tell I wasn't actually furious. "Let me guess—artist's block?"
"What gave it away?" I retorted, dryly. I'd been stewing in frustration for so long that I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the accuracy of his observation.
"Just a hunch," he said with a shrug, the laid-back grin creeping back onto his face. "And the fact that I haven't seen you paint a single thing since the semester started."
That caught me off guard. I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't realize you were keeping tabs on me, Picasso."
"Hey, don't flatter yourself," he shot back with a smirk. "It's just…you're usually one of the first people to dive in. Kind of hard not to notice when you've been sitting there, uh, glaring at your canvas like it insulted your family."
I frowned. It never occurred to me that someone might actually be paying attention to my work.
"You can't force it," he continued. "Sometimes, you've got to let the inspiration find you. Just go with the flow, let the paint guide you." His waving hand and joking tone made it clear he wasn't seriously attempting profound advice.
I let out a huff, though I couldn't help but smirk at the ridiculous imagery. It honestly wasn't too off from what I'd say to Jeremy about his art. Well, when he was actually creating, that was. "Wow, thanks for the motivational speech. I'll be sure to credit you when I'm famous."
"Anytime," he said, giving me a mock salute before heading back to his easel.
I rolled my eyes. Turning back to my canvas, I studied the streak of blue. It wasn't what I'd planned, but…maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.
For the first time in days, I picked up my brush without overthinking it. Maybe I could turn this random mess into something after all.
School was finally over, and I wove through the crowded hallways, dodging last-minute locker slams and half-hearted goodbyes, until I found Elena at her locker. She was rifling through her bag, her straight, glossy hair falling perfectly over her shoulder—seriously, who looked that good after a full day of school? I was a frizzy haired, red faced mess at this point.
"Hey," I said, leaning against the locker beside hers. "Have you seen Matt? I haven't caught him since we split up this morning, and he's not answering my texts. Again."
Elena froze mid-motion, then turned to face me, guilt practically written all over her face.
I narrowed my eyes. "What did you do?"
"I didn't mean to, honest," she said, holding up her hands like she was pleading her case in court. "He brought up Stefan, and I told him I didn't want to hurt him by talking about it. I guess he decided to go back to the hospital to be there when Vicki wakes up."
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Of course he did. After everything I went through to make sure he'd actually show up to class today… Come on, Elena. You know he can't keep skipping school if he wants to stay on the football team, let alone pass his classes."
"I know, I know," she said, cringing slightly. "But honestly? Did you really think he was going to make it the whole day without bailing?"
"That doesn't mean I couldn't have tried," I muttered, folding my arms.
"Look, I really didn't mean to mess things up. I'm sorry," Elena said, her tone genuinely apologetic. Then, her face brightened. "But hey, we were planning to go grab coffee at the Grotto. You should come with us."
I scrunched up my nose. Coffee wasn't exactly my thing—it tasted like burnt dirt no matter how much sugar you dumped into it.
Elena laughed, clearly catching on. "I'll buy you a milkshake to make up for my 'mistake.'"
I huffed dramatically, seizing the bribe. "Well, since you offered…"
She rolled her eyes, linking her arm with mine as we headed down the hallway and to the parking lot.
At least I was getting a milkshake out of this mess.
But, by the time we all got to the coffee shop and settled at a table outside, drinks in hand, I was already ready to leave. The conversation had barely started when it took its inevitable nosedive. Bonnie had been talking about something genuinely cool—the upcoming comet and how it might be a harbinger of death, which was totally up my alley—when Caroline, predictably, derailed everything with boy drama.
"So then nothing, Caroline," Elena stated plainly.
The blond tilted her head, skepticism radiating from her like a beam of sunlight. "You and Stefan talked all night, right? There was no sloppy first kiss? No touchy-feely of any kind?"
My sister shook her head, remaining focused on her drink. "Nope. We didn't go there."
I raised a brow. I hadn't heard a single peep from Elena's room last night and had no idea Stefan had even come over, let alone stayed so late. But that did explain why my sister had been in such an oddly cheerful mood this morning.
"Not even a handshake? I mean, Elena, we are your friends. Okay? You are supposed to share the smut."
I resisted the urge to facepalm. Caroline's ability to flip-flop between wanting Stefan for herself and encouraging Elena to "jump his bones" was truly something to behold. I sipped my milkshake loudly in an effort to drown them out, the sound obnoxious enough to draw their attention.
"What?" I asked when they all gave me pointed looks. "My milkshake is more interesting than this conversation."
Caroline tossed her hair back, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Oh, you're just jealous because your sister is getting some and you aren't."
I nearly spat out my drink. Elena looked just as mortified as I felt. The truth was, I'd never been in a long-term relationship—or at least, not anything I'd call "real" or "serious." And honestly? I wasn't particularly interested in trying for one anytime soon. My two past relationships—if you could even call them that—had been short-lived, neither lasting longer than two months.
"As if!" I scoffed. "Relationships are a drag."
"C'mon, Care. You know that isn't true. Em said herself she's asexual." Bonnie smirked, clearly teasing, and Caroline giggled.
I groaned internally, trying to keep my embarrassment off my face. That comment was still haunting me. I'd told Trey Wilson I was asexual after he asked me to prom for the tenth time last year. It wasn't true, and they knew it, but I'd been desperate to get him to leave me alone. I was already fed up from my last relationship and had no interest as a sophomore going to prom with a senior. Predictably, he backed off the second he realized I wasn't going to sleep with him. Unfortunately, these three had never let me live it down.
The reality was a lot simpler. Growing up in a small town, I'd known most of the boys since we were kids. It was hard to think of anyone romantically or otherwise when you could remember them shoving crayons up their noses in the second grade. I figured I'd give dating another shot in college—preferably far, far away from here.
Elena, my amazing sister, sacrificed herself by redirecting the conversation back onto her. "Really, though, Care. We just talked for hours. That's it."
Caroline threw her hands in the air like this was the most tragic news she'd heard all week. "Okay, what is with the blockage? Just jump his bones already! Listen, it's easy. Boy likes girl, girl likes boy, sex." She smirked, gesturing dramatically, like her hands were drawing out the scientific equation.
"How profound," Elena remarked dryly, rolling her eyes. But then she went quiet, her expression shifting into something contemplative.
Elena stood suddenly, determination radiating from her like a switch had been flipped.
"Where are you going?" Bonnie asked, sharing a pleased knowing look with Caroline as Elena stood up.
"Caroline's right," my sister began. "It is easy. If I sit here long enough, I'll end up talking myself out of it instead of doing what I started the day saying I was going to do."
I slurped my milkshake loudly, speaking in my best monotone. "Woo. You go, girl." Then I slurped again for good measure.
Elena smiled faintly, recognizing my unique way of showing support. It wasn't for the whole Stefan part—gross—but for the fact she was taking charge. That, at least, I could respect.
But the moment she walked off, I realized something. I looked between Bonnie and Caroline. "Uh, one of you mind taking me home?"
"I'm home!" I hollered into the house the moment I shut the door. Bonnie had kindly given me a ride after my sister abandoned me. Not that I blame her; she wouldn't have left if she thought I'd be stranded.
"In the kitchen," Jenna's voice floated back, confirming I wasn't alone.
I kicked off my shoes by the stairs with a huff and dropped my bag onto the floor in the same motion. It was future Emery's problem now. Present Emery was starving!
The aroma hit me before I rounded the corner, and my spirits lifted immediately. "Ooh, tacos," I exclaimed with delight, my stomach growling in anticipation.
"Help yourself. There's plenty." Without hesitation, I grabbed a plate and piled it high with as much as it could carry, before sliding onto the stool next to my aunt at the island. " Jeremy didn't want any," she said with a despondent sigh as she leaned over the counter.
I paused mid-bite, tilting my head in exaggerated patience as I waited for her to elaborate. She seemed distracted, absently picking at a stray tortilla chip.
"I just don't know how to get through to him," Jenna blurted out at last, running a hand through her long, dark blonde hair in agitation.
I hummed thoughtfully, swallowing my bite. "You should've offered them when he was high."
Jenna shot me the flattest, most unamused look I'd gotten all week, which was saying something. "Very funny, Em."
I snickered, unable to resist. "I mean, I'm just saying. Stoner logic is a thing. Tacos are practically a peace offering at that point."
"I'm being serious," she insisted, though the faint twitch of her lips told me she appreciated the attempt at humor. "I went through the same rebellious phase when I was his age. But I didn't stay stuck in it—I grew out of it, took responsibility for my life, and—"
"And now you're responsible for ours," I interrupted, my tone dry but not unkind. Jenna sighed again, clearly wrestling with something heavier.
"I don't know how to make him see that I get it," she admitted.
"Is that what you did?" I mumbled through a mouth full of food. Jenna raised her eyebrow at me in disgust. I swallowed before continuing. "You tried relating, didn't you?"
Her wince said it all. "…Was that a bad idea?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Did it work?"
"No…" she admitted. "He disappeared the second I turned my back."
"Then yeah, it was a bad idea," I said bluntly, though I softened the blow with a small smile.
Jenna gave me another flat look, then groaned, resting her head against the counter dramatically. "I don't know what I'm doing, Em. I really don't."
"What's got you so hung up over this all of a sudden?" I asked, taking another bite.
She hesitated before answering, her voice low with reluctant frustration. "I had a conference today with Jeremy's teacher—Mr. Tanner."
Now it was my turn to groan, already bristling at the mention of the infamous Mr. Tanner.
"Apparently, Jeremy's been skipping most of his classes," Jenna continued, "and when he does finally show up, he's higher than a kite. Tanner basically told me I'm not fit to take care of you three. He actually suggested I give you up to someone more 'responsible.'" She practically spat the word, her hands clenched in frustration.
I narrowed my eyes, anger flaring in my chest. "Jenna, don't listen to that guy. Tanner's a massive douchebag. He lives for tearing people down—it's practically his life's work."
"Language," Jenna admonished half-heartedly. "But yeah, he was a douchebag. But he was a right douchebag, too. I'm doing a horrible job."
"That's not true," I pressed, adamantly. Then I smirked, leaning into her. "I'd say two out of three is pretty good. That's a solid success rate."
"Ha-ha, Em," Jenna said, but still cracked a small smile, so success!
"Don't worry too much. Elena and I are looking out for him too," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "I think I might've even succeeded in getting him to go to school today. At least for a while," I added, murmuring the last part into my shoulder.
Jenna let out a soft sigh, her fingers absentmindedly drumming against the counter. "I really hope this is just a phase."
"It probably is," I replied, though I wasn't entirely sure myself. "He just… needed a way to cope, I think. Not saying I have all the answers, but I do know being too pushy just shuts him down. At the very least, I just want him to know we're there for him when he's ready to talk."
Jenna studied me for a moment, her hazel eyes—so similar to Mom's and mine—softening with concern. "And what about you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "How did you cope? I feel like you picked yourself up so fast… before any of us could even blink."
Her slightly furrowed brow hinted that she was fishing for something, but it wasn't something I could easily explain, even if I wanted to.
I shrugged nonchalantly, taking a small bite of my taco. Swallowing, I replied with a playful tone, "Honestly? I think my secret weapon is a killer sense of humor and the unmatched talent of having absolutely zero filter. Keeps things light." I wiggled my eyebrows in an exaggerated, teasing manner, hoping to deflect.
Jenna didn't laugh. Instead, her lips pressed into a thin line, her brow furrowing slightly. "I know you're good at speaking your mind, Emery. But if there's ever something on your chest… you know you can always talk to me, right?"
I nodded, offering her a small smile. "Yeah. Thanks, Jenna. I appreciate you being here for us."
She reached out and squeezed my hand gently. "I mean it. I know things have been tough lately… and out of all of you kids, I think I've checked in on you the least…"
"It's okay. I get it," I said softly, my gaze dropping to my plate. My mind wandered briefly to the summer we'd all barely survived—Jeremy's spiraling, Elena's fierce attempts to hold it all together, and Jenna stepping into a role none of us could've prepared her for. They were the ones who needed the most support, especially Jeremy being the youngest, and well, Elena…
Jenna nodded slowly, her eyes distant as if she were caught in her own memories. "I just want what's best for all of you. Sometimes… sometimes I worry I'm not doing enough."
I shook my head, sitting up a little straighter. "Jenna, all joking aside, you've done so much for us. More than we could ever ask for. We're lucky to have you."
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she blinked them away and smiled gently, not saying anything more on the topic. I understood her well enough to know that her doubts wouldn't disappear overnight. I didn't blame her, we both understood the feeling of never doing enough. But at least she knew how much we appreciated her, even if we weren't the best at saying it outright.
We lapsed into a comfortable silence, each lost in our own thoughts as I finished the last of my tacos, the steady tick of the clock on the wall filling the space. It wasn't long before the sound started to grate on my nerves, but Jenna broke the quiet before I could say anything.
"So," she said, her tone brighter now, "how was school today? Anything exciting happen?"
I chuckled. "Well, Elena finally got the balls to further her infatuation with Stefan."
Jenna arched an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh? Do tell."
Later that night, I found myself sitting cross-legged on my bed, sketchbook propped against my knees. My pencil hovered over the blank page, tapping idly against it as if sheer willpower could summon an idea. And, once again, my sister came barging in before I could start anything.
Elena breezed in like she owned the place, and though I let out a long, exaggerated sigh, I couldn't help the flicker of amusement that crossed my face.
I missed this. Missed her barging in without hesitation, as if the world would crumble if she didn't vent to me about her latest existential crisis.
Still, I played the part. "Alright, what's the rant about this time?" I asked, shoving my sketchbook to the side. My tone was dry, but the corner of my mouth twitched with a faint smile.
Elena flopped onto the bed beside me, her expression tight with frustration. "Stefan has a brother," she blurted out, crossing her arms like the words were a personal insult.
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for the actual problem to reveal itself. "Okay… and?"
"And he said he didn't have any siblings," she snapped, her voice laced with annoyance.
"No, he didn't," I countered, tilting my head. "He just said he doesn't talk to them. So… what's the real issue?"
Elena threw her hands in the air. Then, in a rush, she continued, "Well, it was clear today Stefan doesn't talk to him. When I went to his house, his older brother—Damon—answered the door. He was all… charming, but when Stefan showed up, everything got weird. He wouldn't even look at me, just glared at Damon the whole time. Like he wanted to set him on fire or something."
Elena flopped backward onto the bed with a huff, her frustration palpable. I snorted. "So, the guy has sibling issues. Not exactly groundbreaking, Elena."
She ignored me, her frown deepening. "Damon practically called me Stefan's rebound," Elena finally shared, her tone betraying a mix of hurt and confusion as she frowning at my ceiling.
"Wait—what?" I blinked, sitting up straighter.
That doesn't sound right to me…
"I can't believe I'm encouraging this but…" I murmured before continuing, looking down at her seriously. "Nothing about the way Stefan looks at you screams rebound. The guy's practically in orbit around you, Elena."
"According to Damon, he had a really hard time getting over his ex…" she muttered bitterly.
I groaned in frustration, running a hand through my hair. "Forget what the brother said. He's clearly trying to get under Stefan's skin, and he's using you to do it."
She didn't respond right away, her lips pressing into a thin line. "…You're probably right," she said eventually. "But… I know what it's like to lose someone. That kind of hurt doesn't just go away."
Her words were soft, but they carried a weight I recognized all too well. She wasn't just talking about Stefan.
I laid back on the bed next to her. "Lena… if you don't feel ready for a relationship, then don't force yourself into one. It's that simple."
She turned her head toward me, her lips twisting into a frown, and I knew that wasn't the answer she wanted. Elena always looked for validation—for someone to tell her she was making the right choice so she wouldn't have to wrestle with uncertainty. Because it usually was something that she wanted. I used to be that person for her, back when she was dating Matt. I'd fed her all the reasons their relationship made sense, even when I had doubts of my own.
But things were different now. I wasn't going to hold her hand through every decision anymore.
Funny how things had changed in that aspect.
I sighed, softening my tone. "I'm not going to give you the pros and cons and tell you what to do. Not this time. You have to figure it out for yourself. It's not about what Damon says, or what Stefan feels, or what I think. It's about what you want. So… what is it? Do you actually want to be with him?"
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes drifted back to the ceiling, where the faint glow of the painted stars we'd done as kids still lingered. The silence stretched between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. Finally, she let out a slow breath.
"You're right," she murmured. "I know you're right, it's just…" She trailed off, struggling to find the words.
I smiled faintly, recognizing that hesitation. "It's easier to tell yourself 'no, I shouldn't' than risk getting hurt?"
Her gaze flicked to mine, and she gave a small, wry laugh. "Yeah."
"Look, I don't know exactly what you're going through. I mean, I can kinda understand how it may be, but I don't know. I've never had guy problems like you." I nudged her shoulder playfully, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes just enough to let me know she was still listening. "But what I do know is that it's okay to let yourself want things, Lena. You don't have to keep punishing yourself or pretending you don't care."
Because I knew the guilt she carried. It was written in every choice she made, every quiet moment she spent overthinking. And I hated seeing it tear her apart.
"Follow your heart and trust your instincts—like the Disney princess you are," I added jokingly, grinning as I tried to end on a light note.
Elena's eyes misted over, and for a second, I regretted my decision to tell her all of this. The last thing I wanted was to make her cry again. But then she let out a shaky breath, her lips curving slightly. "When did you get so insightful?" she teased, a faint sparkle of humor returning to her tone.
And at that, I knew she didn't want me to be serious anymore. I let out a mock haughty laugh, smirking as I leaned into the moment. "Ha! I've always been insightful! I'm an artist. Looking at things in a new and unique way is literally in the job description."
"Sure," she said, rolling her eyes playfully, smiling for real this time. "Or maybe you're just spending too much time around Sonia. Her philosophy tangents are rubbing off on you."
I snorted. "That's a possibility."
But Elena's smile faded slightly, and she leaned forward, gesturing to sketchbook. "Speaking of art… this is, what, the second time I've caught you with your sketchbook this week? It's been months."
I felt a pang of nervousness, absently twisting the ring on my right hand. "Yeah, I, uh, kinda made it my—goal, I guess, to get back into art. I have Painting III this semester, and I've been trying to come up with a draft for the first project. But it's not really happening." Despite finally getting myself to paint something during class today, it still wasn't something that brought me joy, that felt like me. But it was nice to at least finally break the ice and create something.
Elena reached for the sketchbook, flipping through the untouched pages. "I can see that. Well, it's nice to see you trying to get back into it," she said gently. "Now if only Jeremy would start drawing again. Maybe it'd help him."
I smiled faintly, the thought of Jeremy taking up his old sketchbook warming something inside me. We used to talk about someday making a graphic novel together. "Art is therapeutic, sure, but you can't push it. It either flows, or it doesn't. Forcing it just makes everything feel… unsatisfying. Hollow." I felt a little amusement bubble up in me as I spoke, thinking back to Levi earlier today in class. "And honestly, that is about to become my problem if I don't find some type of inspiration soon…"
"I'm sure you will. You're just out of practice," Elena encouraged, patting my hand with a smile. "Anyway, I better get to bed. It's going to be a long day tomorrow. Caroline's got me helping with the festival for the comet."
I rolled my eyes. "And that is why I didn't join the cheerleading squad. Caroline signs you guys up for all the events in this town. It's exhausting."
"That's Caroline for you—an overachiever to her core," Elena said, not sounding very enthused for a cheerleader herself. I furrowed my brow curiously at her attitude. "Okay," she breathed out, standing up and walking to the door, "I'll force you out of bed in the morning."
"Ha-ha," I laughed dryly.
Elena turned her head, smirking. "'Night, Emery."
"'Night, Elena."
The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with my sketchbook again. I stared at the blank page, willing something—anything—to come to me. Nothing did. With a frustrated sigh, I tossed the sketchbook onto the floor and flopped under the covers, reaching out to turn off my bedside lamp. The darkness was immediate, soothing in its own way.
Maybe tomorrow.
END NOTE: Hope you liked this chapter!
I can't wait to get the next one out. It's my favorite so far, and I'm sure you'll easily guess why ;)
Also, what do you guys think of the chapter length? I find I tend to write anywhere from 5000-9000 words, and struggle to cut them down, but if there's no complaints, I'll keep at it lol.