“They should know better than that by now,” I say, wondering if my family has ever felt that kind of fear. “I’d like to believe mine does.”
The stars get brighter. The moon rises higher, casting an eerie glow across Troona. We can see some people in the distance, still working in their fields. Work doesn’t always end when the sun goes down. There are some horse-drawn buggies on the road. No cars, but that’s not unusual. Not many people in this part of the country can afford a luxury like that.
But after the Reparations Auction, my parents will be able to afford one. The house I grew up in will be abandoned. They’ll get an apartment in Concord City. Possibly even a house, one constructed with brick, steel, and hardwood instead of a rickety shack with walls so thin they barely stop the wind.
“Are your parents having a party for your twenty-first birthday?” Rose asks, holding the bottle of agave wine up and letting the last few drops drip into her mouth. “I told mine I didn’t want one, but I don’t think they’re going to listen.”
“I asked them not to,” I say. “When my mom got offended, I told her to have a party after I’m gone. She didn’t like that. First time I’ve seen her cry about it.”
“My dad likes to cry about everything when he gets drunk,” Rose sighs, rolling her eyes. “Hardly feels genuine to see him crying about me leaving when I’ve seen him sob because he was too drunk to get the cork out of his next bottle of wine.”
“Never seen my dad with anything but dry eyes,” I admit. “But that’s just how he is. He bottles it all up until he can’t. I think that’s where I get it from.”
“Maybe he should start drinking,” Rose says. “A bottle alwaysunbottleswhatever you have pent up.”
“Sometimes,” I admit. “I’ve tried to get better about it. Especially now that every day seems to be shorter than the one before it. I don’t want to have any regrets when I leave. Don’t want to leave anything unsaid… well, except the things that don’t matter.”
“Which pretty much covers everything that pertains to us,” Rose sighs. “But I understand what you mean. I even told my mom I love her a few days ago. She almost fell out of her chair at the dinner table.”
“Damn, you’ve never even told me you love me,” I laugh, playfully kicking her foot. “But I know you do.”
“Always, Clover,” she says, rolling to her side so she can see me. “Seriously. I’m going to miss you. A lot more than I’m going to miss my family. Growing up with you has been one of the highlights of my life.”
“Aw, I’m going to miss you too,” I say, reaching out and squeezing her hand. “Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe we’ll bothend up with wolf shifters, and we’ll see each other again. Our children might even get to be best friends, just like we are.”
“You always find room for wishful thinking, even when you’re drunk,” she teases, squeezing my hand as hard as I’m squeezing hers. “But no matter what happens, promise me you’ll never forget me?”
“I won’t,” I say genuinely, letting the moment breathe before cracking a smile. “Just promise you won’t forget all about me, once you’ve got a sexy wolf shifter between your legs every night.”
“Knowing my luck, it’ll be a demon, and I’ll just get worn as a skin,” she shudders before smiling. “If you ever see me again and I’ve got glowing red eyes, you should probably run.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I laugh.
We continue talking late into the night, the alcohol slowly leaving our systems until only the melancholy remains. By morning, we’ll go home. In two weeks, we’ll board the train. After that, neither of us has any control over what happens next.
Like all second-borns, all we can do is hope for the best.
CHAPTER 2
Clover
The days continue to seem shorter and shorter, until one morning, I wake up and realize it’s the last time I’ll ever open my eyes on the straw mattress I call my bed.
The last time I’ll sit up, rub the sleep out of my eyes, and see my mother trying to turn scraps into breakfast. The last time I’ll see my little sister playing on the floor with the doll I gave her when I outgrew it. The same doll Beverly gave me when she had to start working in the cactus fields instead of attending school and playing with toys.
“Good morning, Abigail,” I say softly, letting her know I’m awake.
“Clover!” she says happily, dropping the doll and running over to me. “It’s your last day! Are you excited? I bet you’re excited!”
Abigail is eight years old. She’s too young to understand how cruel this is. We’ve been careful to shield her from the harsh reality. Maybe because my family mostly ignores the reality ofthe situation. I’ve tried to, but that’s going to be a lot harder today.
“Yes, I’m excited,” I say, hugging my little sister and pulling her into my lap. She doesn’t like it when I do this, but today I’m not going to let her squirm away. “I’m going to make sure you get to finish school and then you can decide what kind of life you want.”
“I think I’m going to marry Billy,” she says naively, squirming in my arms, but not trying to pull away like she normally does. “He’s cute, right? The other girls at school say he’s cute and he kissed me on the cheek yesterday.”
“Gosh, you’re growing up so fast,” I sigh, squeezing her tighter. “But it’s too soon for you to be worrying about marriage. Finish school first. Promise me you will?”
“I will, Clover. I promise,” she giggles. “I’ll wait until I’m ten to find my first boyfriend like Beverly did!”