Page 19 of One For my Enemy

“Easy?” Sasha echoed grumpily, burrowing into her sister’s side, and Marya chuckled.

“Oh, everything is easy for us, Sashenka,” Marya said, and paused. “Well, not everything,” she amended, softening slightly. “I won’t lie to you, not everything in this life is so straightforward. But we are Yaga’s daughters. We earn our right to success by the sacrifices we make. This one, at least, is easy.”

Sasha nodded, resting her head against her sister’s shoulder, and abruptly, Marya jumped.

“What’s that?” she asked, alarmed, and Sasha laughed.

“My phone,” she offered apologetically, catching the vibration and pulling it free from the pillowcase. “Sorry.”

“It’s very early,” Marya noted, frowning. “Don’t tell me you fell in love with the boy from last night?”

“What?” Sasha asked, startled.

“The boy, the bully. From your class.”

“Oh, right,” Sasha exhaled, relieved her sister didn’t somehow magically know about Lev. That, whatever it was, seemed like a secret she should keep to herself—at least for now. “No, definitely not. He’s terrible.”

“Well, better terrible,” Marya assured her, rising to her feet. “It’s the wonderful ones you have to watch out for.” She leaned forward, lightly brushing her thumb across Sasha’s cheek. “I’ll have more instructions for you later.”

Then she left, and Sasha quickly reached for her phone, reading the latest message.

(212) 555-3863:this is Lev, by the way

She rolled her eyes, changing his name in her phone.

SASHA:have you never used a phone before? there’s a protocol. salutation, introduction, the decency to wait until an acceptable hour…

She watched him type a response. Clearly, he’d been waiting for her answer.

LEV:acceptable hour? it’s nearly noon

She checked the clock.

SASHA:it’s 7:45

LEV:look, I said nearly

LEV:I wasn’t being specific

SASHA:are you normally this inexact?

LEV:no, actually. I’m usually lauded for my accuracy

“Sasha,” her sister Galina interrupted, bursting into the room and startling Sasha into dropping her phone on the floor. “Do you have that red sweater?”

“What red sweater?”

“The red one,” Galina repeated impatiently (and, true to form, unhelpfully). “You know, with the—” She gestured vaguely to her wrists. “The sleeves?”

“If you mean the bell-sleeves, then it’s not mine, it’s Liliya’s,” Sasha said, leaning down to pick up her phone.

“But you wore it on Tuesday,” Galina said.

“Yes,” Sasha sighed, “but that doesn’t make it mine, does it?”

“And Liliya hates red.”

“She normally does,” Sasha permitted disinterestedly, “but she said she liked th- look, do you want it or not, Galya?” she demanded, and Galina gave a contemptuous sniff.

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