Chapter 4

They were all short.

Every single one.

I counted twice.

Then I looked inside the box, searching the corners, the lining, the space beneath the lid.

There was no long stick.

A whole year of trying again.

A whole year of Mom saying, Perhaps next time.

I thought of my fingers shaking around the two pieces I had glued together. How ashamed I’d felt when she caught me.

She had broken my one long stick herself.

Mom came down for the ointment she kept in the hall drawer. She saw the mess and bent to gather it.

Dad joined her.

“Put it away,” he murmured.

For a moment, I hoped he would notice.

He held three short sticks in his palm. Looked at them. Looked at Mom.

“Before Nora comes down.”

Mom closed the lid.

Neither of them was surprised.

I sat on the floor long after they left.

In the morning, Lily stopped outside my bedroom.

“I hope you keep this up,” she whispered.

She rested her cheek against the door, listening.

“It’s so much nicer without you. Mom and Dad finally have time for me.”

She waited for an answer.

When none came, she smiled.

“You can stay in there forever, for all I care.”

I watched her go.

Once, I had moved over in my bed so she wouldn’t be afraid of a storm.

Now I couldn’t remember the last time she’d called me her sister without wanting someone else to hear.

Another day passed.

Mom told the training academy I was taking time off for disciplinary reasons. She told the staff to leave me alone.

Dad ate breakfast, went to his office, and came home.

They slept across the hall from me.

By the third morning, Ethan arrived before breakfast.

“Nora hasn’t answered anything,” he said.

Mom was buttering toast for Lily.

“She’s waiting for an apology she isn’t getting.”

“I tried the pack link.”

“You know she hasn’t shifted.”

“I know. I just…” He looked up the stairs. “Has anyone actually seen her?”

“She ate the food I left.”

“Three days ago?”

Mom put down the knife.

“Ethan, she sent her sister to the medical center twice in one night. I’m not going to pretend that didn’t happen because she wants attention.”

Lily touched her bandage.

“Please don’t be angry with her. She’ll think I made you come.”

Usually, that was enough.

This time, Ethan was already on the stairs.

I followed.

Near my door, he stopped.

The scent seals had kept so much inside. They couldn’t keep it in forever.

“Nora?”

He knocked.

I stood on the other side of his hand.

“It’s me.”

For a moment, he sounded like the boy who used to wait at the gate.

Then he bent toward the gap beneath the door.

“Alpha.”

Something in his voice brought Dad out of the dining room.

Mom followed, looking irritated until she reached the landing.

Her expression changed.

“Maybe she’s left food in there,” she said. “Nora, this is enough. Open the door.”

Ethan tried the handle.

“Nora, move away from the door if you can hear me.”

Dad brought the key. The lock turned, but the warped latch held.

“Get out of the way,” Ethan said.

“Don’t speak to me like—”

“She has asthma.”

Silence.

Ethan drove his shoulder into the door.

The frame cracked on the second blow.

Warm, stale air spilled into the hall.

Mom covered her mouth.

The girl on the floor no longer looked as if she might wake up. Her skin had darkened. Her body had begun to swell in the heat of the closed room.

Her hand was still reaching for the inhaler.

Ethan stopped so suddenly Dad collided with him.

I floated beside the doorway and looked at my parents.

They had finally come to see me.