Vendetta (Blood for Blood #1)(8)

Millie’s parents are going away, so she and Alex are going to throw a huge house party, complete with all his college friends. If you were here, you would definitely disapprove. But you’re not.

I think Mom wants to make me a dress for my birthday. Every time she sees me in sweatpants, I see the light in her eyes dim a little bit. If I don’t wear something ladylike soon, she might die inside. Last Saturday morning I caught her measuring me in my sleep.

If I see one frill or even the hint of bedazzling on it, things will get ugly.

She’s working more than ever, which she really seems to enjoy.

Most of her friends have deserted her, too, in the wake of everything that happened, and those that didn’t don’t come around much anymore. I think Mom has lost her social sparkle.

I know last year was really hard for all of us, but now she seems happier, and I’m sure she is missing you as much as I am.

Sometimes it feels like she hates you and everything your incarceration has put us through. Sometimes I feel that way, too.

Mrs. Bailey has started to come by on Sunday again. I decided earlier that she is probably the most annoying person to ever live on this planet. Do you think she might be descended from Lucifer? Just a thought.

Annoying is putting it mildly. You don’t know any of the crap she’s been saying about you. And Millie’s probably only told me half of it.

She was here this morning, talking about a new family who have moved into the old Priestly mansion. I guess they must be distant relatives. Weird, huh? I thought that place would be empty forever.

It’s full of boys boys boys!

I will come and see you in a couple of weeks, after my birthday, when I get time off from the diner. I really can’t wait.

I am dreading seeing how gaunt and unhappy you look. It makes me want to collapse in tears every time.

That’s everything for now. I miss you so much.

Sometimes it physically hurts.

Thinking about you always.

I wish I could turn it off, like a switch.

And counting the days.

Counting the years.

Lots of love and hugs,

Sophie X





I stood facedown with my nose pressed against the countertop, willing time to speed up. Even during the busiest hours of the day, the diner was never overrun with customers, but tonight it was unusually quiet. There was just one more hour to go until I could go home, and the minutes were dragging by. To make matters worse, the air conditioner was broken, the stifling humidity was frizzing out the ends of my hair, and the deliveryman hadn’t shown up for the third day in a row, which meant we were low on some of the menu’s ingredients.

Millie hovered behind me, prodding my shoulder. She was, after all, part-female, part-question. “So if these random Priestly relatives just moved in, then the shadow guy probably was one of the five boys?”

“Yeah,” I replied through a yawn. “Probably.”

She laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “How embarrassing for you.”

I lifted my head. “Better embarrassed than dead.”

She grinned. “Oh come on, Soph, where is your sense of adventure?”

I pretended to contemplate her question. “I think it’s buried deep beneath my natural instinct to survive.”

“You could have made out with a shadow!” Her face was glowing.

“Or been brutally murdered by one,” I countered.

“Ugh, you are such a killjoy.”

“How about this,” I said. “Next time I’m in a risky situation with a complete stranger, I promise I’ll try and make out with him.”

“Bah! Don’t make promises you won’t keep. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

The bell above the door jingled and three girls sauntered into the diner. I recognized two of them from school. Erin Reyes and Jane Leder were all bitchiness and long legs, and could have made a full-time career out of judging people. I was surprised to find them at Gracewell’s — it was far from the expensive hangs they seemed to enjoy. Then again, the diner did have their favorite main attraction — me. It might have been nearly a year and a half since my father’s incarceration, but it was still Erin’s favorite topic.

She caught my eye and smirked, and I tried not flinch as she stage-whispered to the third girl, who was already studying me with rapt attention. “That’s her. She actually works here, in the place where it happened. Can you believe that?”

The other two giggled, and I felt my cheeks grow hot.

“Ugh,” said Millie, who had as much patience for routine bitchiness as I did. “I’ll get this one. And if they’re not careful, I’ll bring them their menus with a side of my shoe up their …” She trailed off, rounding the counter to attend to them.

I smiled graciously at the back of her head. Gracewell’s Diner mostly catered to people who worked in town or local families who had been coming here for years. But every so often, nosy vipers from school would stop in to gawk at the infamous Michael Gracewell’s restaurant, and Millie would take the hit and serve them so that I wouldn’t have to.

Absentmindedly, I started to fix the errant strings on my apron, looping them into an uneven bow.

“Are you going to do any work today, Sophie?”

Ursula, Gracewell Diner’s assistant manager, had returned from the kitchen. She was nearly as old as Mrs. Bailey but was infinitely cooler because she could rock purple hair and was able to have conversations that didn’t negatively affect my will to live. She gestured toward Millie, who was handing menus to the three girls.