Lissy was silent in the seat beside me, a red mark on her face. Her skin was bone white and pale, streaked with tears, about Connie or because I’d hit her, I didn’t know. I felt bad about the slap and I didn’t need that irritating kid of Nick’s preaching at me about it either. But Lissy couldn’t faint; she couldn’t sleep. Not now. They were waiting. Mum had never told her a thing. Just tried to keep her locked up like a jewel in a box. How stupid can you get? Because now Lissy was not only useless and unable to defend herself, she was furious too. That train ride. I almost admired her for it. I couldn’t blame her for that. Just every other idiotic selfish thing she’d done. Dad, who’s Elena? Holding up that birthday card. With an oh-so-innocent look on her face, but really she knew. Oh, yeah, she knew. Lissy reached for the car door, her hand pale as china. Every other redhead I know is covered in freckles. Not Lissy. I let her get out, leaving the door hanging open, raindrops patterning the passenger seat.
