Page 28 of Persephone's Curse
“I’ve been talking to her every day,” Mom said. “Your sister is doing much better.”
“And why exactly did you banish her to Vermont?”
“When you say it like that, it makes it sound quite dramatic,” Mom said.
“It felt a little dramatic, to be fair.”
“I just wanted your sister to have some time alone. There are a lot of people in our house, and it can be hard to think. There’s a lot more breathing room in Vermont.”
“You think she needed breathing room?”
“I do,” Mom said. “Plus, I wanted Bea to take her to a few classes. Let her sit in the back, audit, listen in. Maybe your sister picked the wrong college. It’s very possible for her to transfer, you know. It might be nice for her to have family nearby. She could even live with your aunt. Bea would love that.”
“What if she doesn’t want to go to college at all?”
“That’s another option,” Mom said, nodding. “And that would be fine, too.”
“But she’s okay? She’s going to be okay?”
Mom paused, and for a moment I wondered if she’d even heard me. Then she said, slowly, “Winnie, your sister struggles a bit. It seems like the older she gets, the more she struggles. And that was another reason we sent her up north. Your aunt has had her fair share of troubles, too. I thought maybe she was the right person for this job.”
I thought of Bernadette in Vermont, hanging out with our aunt(s), convalescing. I couldn’t help but think of Beth March, going to the seaside to beat the remnants of the fever that would eventually kill her. But everyone knew Bernadette was Jo, right down to the chopping of the hair.
Mom turned up her audiobook. Everyone was looking for some super rare kind of orchid.
The ghost orchid.
“Well, that’s a coincidence,” I said.
“Hmm?”
“Oh, nothing,” I replied, and closed my eyes, suddenly there with them in Florida, for once smelling orchids instead of jasmine.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Mom said, and I realized I had fallen asleep again. It was 12:45 and we were idling in Aunt Bea’s driveway.
“Ugh,” I said.
“Indeed,” Mom said, opening her door to a blast of cold air.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I slid out of the car.
Evelyn had never texted me back.
Clara had texted me a string of different emojis, from sad faces to angry faces to dead faces. I knew she was still up, so I texted her before I got out of the car.
Is Evelyn mad?
Her response came almost immediately:yup.
I typed back:are you mad?
Her response:YUP
I put my phone in my pocket and helped Mom with her suitcase. Aunt Bea was waiting in the front doorway, dressed in paint-splattered overalls. She had her hair in a messy ponytail and her smile was so wide it looked like it hurt.
“I wasn’t expectingyou,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me and nuzzling her cheek into mine.
“She’s a stowaway,” Mom said, pushing past us into the house.
