Page 39 of The Golden Hour

With a soft smile, she leaves me to stare, bleary-eyed, at empty squares in the crossword puzzle. Five letters. Clue: Where the Acheron flows.

A quick Google search later—yes, I cheat—I sit back with a humorless smile.

Oh, the irony.

Acheron is the river that flows into the Greek Underworld, Hades. And that’s exactly where I’m going. Straight into the dark on a river of pain.

22

“I really don’t understand it.” Ellie sniffs primly as she examines her nails.

“What’s to understand?” asks Lizzie, smirking. “Is it so unbelievable to you that he’s interested in our beautiful sister?”

“He probably just wants to photograph her and sell the prints to the highest bidder.”

Lizzie slants me a worried look, but I shrug it off. It’s always been like this with Ellie. That she’s equating Finn with a bottom-dwelling paparazzo to appease her bruised ego is par for the course. Her digs used to hurt, but now they buzz past me like harmless flies. I have other, bigger problems to wrestle with. Like how to keep them safe and secure while I ruin their mother.

“I doubt it’ll go anywhere,” Ellie continues, petulant. “He seems like a total tool.”

Seated beside her on the guest bed, Lizzie rolls her eyes, then mouths at me, “Jealous.”

I smile sadly, wishing I could tell Ellie she has absolutely nothing to be jealous of. That Finn’s interest in me only goes as far as how useful I can be to him.

The lies are stacking up, the weight on my heart growing.

“I love that outfit,” Lizzie says brightly. “Do you know where he’s taking you?”

I give myself a final, cursory glance. There’s nothing special about what I’m wearing—jeans, a black top, and comfortable flats. But I appreciate Lizzie’s effort. Frankly, I don’t care what Finn thinks. I’m casual because, for a week straight, I’ve been stuffed into designer outfits I’d never wear by choice. A pair of jeans is luxury to me.

“He said he wanted to surprise me,” I lie, padding the prior fabrication that he’s been texting me on my shiny new iPhone all week.

Lizzie claps excitedly. “Ohh, so romantic.”

Ellie flops onto her back. “Am I the only one who thinks maybe it’s too soon for Calli to date?”

“Yes,” chirps Lizzie with a gleam in her eye. “Why are you even here, Ellie? It’s Friday night. Shouldn’t you be at a frat party or something?”

“I wanted to help Calli get ready, duh,” she answers unconvincingly. “What time is it?”

“Time for you to get a hobby.”

“Shut up, Ms. Does Nothing. Maybe we should work on some college applications for you, huh?”

“Shove it, El. I’m taking a break-year. It’s a thing.”

Ah, sisters.

“It’s only a thing if you do something for a year. Like travel, have sex with hot European guys, or even just hang out with friends on a beach somewhere. But you don’t have any friends, do you?”

“I have friends,” snaps Lizzie. “And you’re one to talk! If you weren’t so far up Mom’s ass, you’d see how pointless college is. We’re not going to have careers. We’re going to be married off to whoever’s rich sons. What’s the fucking point?”

Shocked, I almost drop the tube of mascara in my hand.

“Whatever,” drawls Ellie. “You’re delusional and paranoid. Keep at it and you’ll end up in a padded room.”

She’s not crazy! I want to yell. But I keep my mouth shut as they continue to bicker, the subject thankfully shifting to who borrowed whose designer shoes last month and conveniently forgot to return them.

When the doorbell rings a few minutes later, the girls have lapsed into rigid silence. Ellie hops off the bed. “I’ll get it,” she sings as she saunters from the room.

---