The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,33

entire time, she’s sober. As much as I can tell anyway … she’s always been a little peculiar.

I decide to risk asking one of the forbidden Blackwood questions. “What do Sophia’s parents do for a living?”

Ashton adjusts a bright blue wig on her head in front of the mirror, smoothing the bob into place. “Um, I don’t think I know.” She pauses. “Wait. Do I? I think one’s a scientist. Some super genius. Can’t remember if it’s her mom or dad. And the other does something with computers.”

This is the piece I’ve been trying to fit into place. I know it’s useless, asking Ashton for details if she barely knows this much. But it’s a crack in a previously closed door. Now I need to understand what Sophia has to do with any of this. Hopefully nothing.

“Where’s she from? I heard she went home this weekend.” I try to sound casual, applying white gloss to my lips. I don’t want to alarm Ashton and cause her to be suspicious of Sophia. Theirs isn’t a relationship I want to mess with without cause.

Ashton spins around, the train of her skirt floating around her. “She went to Chicago? That doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?” I pick up a pale pink wig with pigtails and settle it on my head, tucking loose wisps of my platinum strands beneath the elastic edge.

“Her parents are in Japan for the summer.” She scrunches her face, plucking a tube of liquid liner from her makeup suitcase. “I think it’s Japan. Maybe Indonesia. No, I’m pretty sure it’s Japan. Anyway, they’re not home.”

“Maybe I got it wrong,” I offer quietly. I decide this is a good time to change the subject before she starts questioning my curiosity. “Why did you pack so many wigs for school?”

“Why not?” She looks down at me from her red vinyl platform boots and laughs. “Omigod, that looks so adorable on you. I wore that wig to an EDM festival last summer. Brendan and I …” Her voice fades. “Anyway, you look good with pink hair. Not so sure about the white lips though.”

I watch the light dim in her eyes through her reflection in the mirror as I swipe the gloss from my lips. She leans in and draws exaggerated wings along her lids. I want to say something to comfort her, to make her laugh. But what? He doesn’t deserve you? Or some other cliché girl-to-girl consolation that means absolutely nothing.

The truth is, he loves her. I know he does. But he’s also lying to her. Keeping her in the dark in the name of protecting her. And keeping secrets isn’t what love’s about.

If you can’t be honest, then …

My phone rings. Ashton grabs it when Grant’s name appears on the screen. I reach for it, but she holds it above her, and jumping in these sparkly silver go-go boots doesn’t get me within a foot of her outstretched hand.

“Grant!” Ashton exclaims excitedly when his face appears on the screen. “What are you doing?”

Grant’s eyes widen at the sight of her in her bright blue bob and me in the pink pigtails. I force an exaggerated smile, which makes me look like I’m psychotic, and wave pathetically, punctuating the humiliation.

“What are you doing?” Grant asks in return. “Are you sneaking out again?”

“Nope,” Ashton answers, lowering the phone so just she is in the frame. She starts walking around the room. “Girls’ night in.”

“Looks … entertaining.” Grant is obviously struggling. “Um … do you mind if I talk to Lana?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ashton responds like it just struck her that he called to speak with me and not her. “She may not say it, but she loves you, you know. You can’t let her crazy phobia—” I grab the phone from her. She hollers, “Hey! I was saving you!”

“Hi. I’m here,” I say urgently, scurrying to the bathroom and shutting the door. Trying to keep Ashton’s chivalry on the other side of it. “How are you? How was the golf tournament? Did you get decent tips? Are you exhausted? What time do you have to be in tomorrow?”

“Lana,” Grant interrupts my word vomit. “Breathe, Sweets. Breathe.”

But I don’t. I stop breathing completely when he calls me Sweets. He’s never called me that before. And … I actually … like it. So much better than Brendan calling me fucking Princess!

He smiles when he realizes he’s rendered me speechless. “Are you okay? Should I not have called you that? I mean, you look so