Page 6 of Poinsettia Lane

“Hey,” she says, her voice equally soft.

“Hi,” Everly says, dumbfounded, her brain completely offline.

“Hi,” Addison says, her quiet smile turning into a mischievous grin. One Everly remembers all too well.

“It’s really you,” Everly voices her thought out loud, and Addison nods.

“It’s really me.”

“What…” Everly doesn’t know what to say. Her mind is blank.

“Is there somewhere we can talk for a minute?” Addison says, and Everly walks in a daze past the kitchen, ignoring a gaping Frankie, and down the hallway to the laundry room, of all places.

“I guess this works,” Addison says, quirking another tentative smile at Everly.

She’s unable to return it.

“This is weird,” Addison grimaces and her shoulders start to bunch up near her ears.

Everly lets out a surprised huff of a laugh. “Yeah, it really is.”

“Should we start over?” Addison suggests.

“I think that would be good.” Everly sticks out her hand. “Hi, I’m Everly, your long lost, very awkwardsister.”

Now it’s Addison’s turn to laugh. Shaking her head, she politely inquires, “Would a hug be okay? I’m more of a hugger than a shaker,” before enfolding Everly in the comfiest, warmest hug she has felt in years. Everly’s eyes prick with tears while she holds onto her sister for a significantly longer-than-average hug.

As they pull apart, Everly swipes at her eyes and tries not to notice her sister mirroring the movement.

“Everything looks amazing, Ev,” Addison says, calling Everly by her childhood nickname. “The house, the gala…”

“Thanks,” Everly draws the word out, feeling thrown off by her sister’s apparent nonchalance. “So…”

“Um, yeah.” Addison wrings her hands together and looks down at her feet. “I should have RSVPed, or at least given you a heads up, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Everly’s head is going to explode. This is the most uncomfortable moment of her entire life, and she has no idea how to fix it.

“Okay, um,” Addison turns her eyes back up to Everly’s. “I wanted to say, thanks for letting me be here.”

“Sure, of course.” Everly’s mouth is working on auto-pilot at this point.

A heavy, awkward silence descends between them, only broken by the distant hum of the party. Everly’s eyes drift to the door, though she doesn’t want to be back at the party any more than she wants to remain here for another moment.

“We should probably get back out there,” Addison says. “Can we catch up later?”

“Right, yeah,” Everly says, her brain in a fog as she trails her sister back to the front of the house.

Addison hasn’t attended one of these events since their parents died. Eight freaking years ago. Then she randomly shows up, without RSVPing, no notice or heads up, and waltzes right in the front door with a smile on her face?

This must be another nightmare.

Dream?

Whatever. Either way, there’s no way this is reality. If she’s not dreaming, Everly must be hallucinating.

She ducks into the kitchen rather than going back to the foyer and continuing to greet guests, needing a moment to sort herself out. Before she can so much as clasp her hands to her head, Frankie is there.

“What the hell?” Frankie whisper-shouts as soon as she sees Everly. Their brows have disappeared under their floppy hair, and their eyes show white all the way around. They look how Everly feels.

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