Page 46 of Sold Rejected Mate
When we were kids, Aurela and I were best friends. We grew up in New Jersey. Nannies drove us to our private school, where I wore slacks and she was in a plaid skirt every day.
At home, we bonded under the mutual neglect of our parents. Our mother was always too busy with social events and fundraisers for her charity. Every year, she’d complain aboutnew chairs and gossip with the staff about the inner workings of the organization.
Our father was a real estate man. And when he visited Colorado to invest in a ski resort, he fell in love. Decided we should move there. Vetted several towns—and their packs, their supremes—to decide which would be best.
I was ten when Aurela and I came to Silverville. Somehow, living out here only made our parents—our mother, especially—worse. More serious about our standings. Like living in a small town suddenly brought the reality of our place in the world much closer.
Aurela didn’t do well under the strain, the constant microscope. She was already very private. Spent a lot of time in her room as we got older.
But after the fire, she became a full-time recluse.
Now, looking at me through the crack in the door, she clears her throat and says, “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
Her face looks different, less gaunt, more full. Her cheeks are flushed, and her room smells like rose oil and fresh flowers. At first, I thought I might find her in a depression hole, need to force her to come outside with me. But now that I’m facing her, all my ideas on how I might make things better are crushed under the strange weight of social expectations.
I should push. I should ask to come inside. I should talk to her, ask her what’s going on. But there’s something about this situation that feels impossible. Like I could never reach far enough to make contact with her on the other side.
“Okay,” I say, nodding and taking a step back from her door. “Well, I’ll see you later?”
There’s a quick flash of sadness on her face. “Sure. See you later, Lach.”
With that, she closes her door, and I walk through the dark hallway, down the dark steps, already feeling the weight of my guilt. Already feeling like I’m failing my sister, my twin. Letting her shut herself away from the world, and doing nothing to stop it.
Chapter 23 - Valerie
Spring plunges fully into summer, and Phina convinces me to come to her birthday party, despite the fact that I’ve caught some sort of summer bug.
“It’s fine,” she said over the phone. “Youcan’tmake me go through the party without you. Now that we’re best friends again.”
So, even though I woke up with the same persistent nausea this morning, I got myself together and climbed into Lachlan’s car, heading to Phina’s birthday party. Her birthday party out at her and Xeran’s house, a large, beautiful property up in the mountains with a hot tub and lights twinkling in the backyard.
It’s not Lachlan’s place—doesn’t even come close to the size or style—but it speaks in a different language. Communicating something about the history of the place, the generations that came before Xeran, Phina, and Nora. The countless number of hands and feet, and mouths existing in this place before them.
In comparison, Lachlan’s house feels like a large, empty white box.
Xeran greets us at the front door and tells us to head through to the backyard, and when we step through the sliding glass door onto the porch, the thumping bass from the speakers is the first thing that hits me.
Swallowing, I run my fingers over my dress, which covers the coral bikini Lachlan bought for me and convinced me to wear. I should have gone for a one-piece. That’s what Phina is in.
“Valerie!” Phina turns and looks at me, almost like she can feel my gaze on her skin. Her face lights up with delight.
“This is cute,” Lachlan says, laughing as he looks around the space, which looks like the pool section at a department store, with an inflatable palm tree, tiki torches, and a brown grass skirt fluttering in the breeze above the sparkling water of the swimming pool they recently installed.
“Wanted to make the most of the new pool,” Phina says, gesturing to the water.
“Hi, Lach!” Nora tips her head up, water dripping off her head. “Hi, Valerie.”
After being called “Green” for so long, it’s strange to hear everybody using my real name. If I could go back to my teenage self ten years ago, when I left Silverville, and tell her that I would someday be at a pool party with the supreme and luna—and that nobody would be spitting in my face—I would have laughed.
And yet, here I am.
“Sit with me,” Phina says, shielding her eyes to look up at Lachlan, “Cambias, have you really not gotten her a drink yet?”
Lachlan laughs, and when I look up at him, his body blocks the sun for me. He’s a sight, his skin tanned and delicious-looking. All I want is to sink my teeth into it.
“I’m on it,” he says, starting to go, but Phina calls him back.
“Since you’re already getting a drink,” she says, holding her glass up, “you can refill mine. Sprite and pineapple juice, please. Thank you!”
