Page 28 of Virgin Sacrifice

“Autumn, there are some things I haven’t told you about . . .” I paused, struggling to find the words. “Things, that, well, I can’t or don’t want to talk about . . . yet,” I stuttered some more, the taste of bile rising in my throat.

I wasn’t entirely sure what I thought her reaction would be. Curiosity? Maybe pity, suspicion, or dismissal? What I wasn’t expecting was genuine compassion.

“You don’t have to share anything you aren’t ready to tell me, Luz,” she said, and something in my cold dead heart shattered at her easy acceptance. For the first time in years, I reached to hug someone other than Mami.

“That doesn’t make me lashing out at you okay, though, and I’m sorry,” I repeated, squeezing her close to me.

Autumn patted me softly on the back before letting me go and taking my hand.

“I know I’m pretty spoiled and privileged,” she said, chewing on her lip again, “but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that almost everyone has something.”

“Something?”

“Something,” she replied, looking at me earnestly. “You know, it’s like that thing that weighs you down. Maybe it’s a secret, maybe it’s a lie. It could be in your past, your present, or maybe your future. But it’s that thing, that reason, that something that makes you not okay some of the time,” she said solemnly before adding, “And if you don’t think you have something, well then chances are you probably are someone’s something.” She scrunched up her nose, causing us both to giggle. “So, are we okay again?” she asked tentatively after a moment. “Like, friends again?”

“Like, friends again,” I said with a smirk, eliciting one of her trademark shrieks.

Later that evening, as we hung out in her room doing our nails, I found myself wondering about what Autumn hadn’t said. What her something was.

Then again, if she wanted to tell me, she would have.

“How did you become so wise about people and their somethings, Autumn Morgan?” I had asked, unable to resist poking at her.

“Oh, that’s easy, TikTok.”

“Luz Cornelia Torres!” Autumn bellowed loud enough to draw the attention of a couple of other students who were scattered about the dining hall with us. We had made it over in time to grab smoothies before the bar shut down for the night.

“Keep it down!” I hissed at her, mortified. “And my middle name is Amelia, not Cornelia.”

Autumn remained uncowed. “Don’t you dare try to change the subject on me. Your birthday is, like, barely two weeks away and you just weren’t going to tell me anything?” She looked more upset than she had the night of our fight.

“I wasn’t planning on celebrat—‍”

“Your eighteenth birthday!” she shrieked, and this time I shot her a glare of my own.

“Keep it down, please. And it’s my nineteenth birthday.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I just, like, can’t believe you were just going to sweep your birthday under the rug,” she whined, unwilling to let it go.

“It’s not like we talked about it. I don’t know when your birthday is!” I tried to argue.

“February twenty-third.” She didn’t miss a beat. “I’m a Pisces sun, Leo moon, and Virgo rising.”

“Am I supposed to pretend I understood what any of that meant?” I responded with an arched brow.

“Tell me you at least know your sun sign, Luz!” She clutched her hand to her chest dramatically.

“I think we both know the answer to that,” I said, rolling my eyes.

She threw her head back over her chair in despair. “You’re breaking my heart here,” Autumn whined, before sitting back up with a determined look on her face and snatching up her phone.

She typed away furiously for a couple of moments.

“Okay, so November second means you are a Scorpio, which is a water sign like Pisces—probably why we vibe so well.” She kept tapping away at her phone before finding what she was looking for. “Got it. Okay, what time and where exactly were you born?” she said without looking up.

If she had been, she might have caught the momentarily blank look on my face as I realized I had no idea what time Luz Amelia Torres had supposedly been born. November second wasn’t even my real birthday, although it was close enough that it had made it easy to learn.

“Oh um, Almeda, Texas, and um, I’m not sure about the time,” I said, hoping that was normal.

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