I parked like I always did, way out in the corner of the mall lot, under that one sad-looking palo verde tree that gave zero shade. I don’t even know why I aimed for it. Habit, I guess. The asphalt was cracked out here, little weeds poking through like they were trying to escape. The sun was already doing its thing, baking the car roof and making heat shimmer off the windshield. Madeline slid out of the passenger seat slo...

The house smelled like lemon polish and wealth trying not to show off. It was big but mostly empty like they’d only just moved in and hadn’t figured out what parts they wanted to live in yet. White walls. Pale wood floors. Big glass doors that looked out onto a backyard with a pool the color of glacier melt. Everything inside was sharp-edged and echoey like a magazine spread someone forgot to warm up. I didn’t mind. It wa...

I don’t remember who booked the hotel. Not me. Or Mads. Probably one of the other girls, after too many cocktails and not enough supervision. It wasn’t the Bellagio or anything fancy, but we had two connecting rooms, a working ice machine, and the kind of floral bedspreads that looked like they’d seen some things and wouldn’t judge if we added to the list. Vegas for Summer Break-slash-birthday-slash-we-survived-our-freshm...

Our house creaked around me like an old ship, settling into the desert cold. Christmas Eve in Scottsdale, population: me. Mom had pitched the Florida thing with all the enthusiasm of a travel brochure: white sand beaches, family bonding, Grandma's famous rum cake. But honestly? The humidity down there could kill a person. Plus, I wasn't exactly in the mood for my little brother's Nintendo obsession echoing through some cr...

I squinted against the February sun, already regretting stepping out today. It was a perfect 72 degrees, the kind of weather that made the rest of the country jealous, but because every store window I passed screamed Valentine's Day like a toddler who's had too much sugar. Red hearts. Pink ribbons. Chocolate displays that probably cost more than my textbooks. "Artisan chocolate truffles," I muttered, reading the sign outs...