Glass: Chapter 11

“Quick.”

I muffle my laugh at Kit’s horrified hiss. We slip out of the back door as Angelica’s howl rings through the house. “Oh, yeah. She’s livid.”

Our father’s new squeeze is a little… much.

A little too happy. Too many bright smiles that don’t reach her eyes. Too many awkward hugs, as though she’s trying to prove to our dad what an excellent mother she is.

Too bad she doesn’t realize that it’s showing us the exact opposite. My father is still blind to her, but he’ll see it eventually. All we had to do was watch her with her own daughter.

The smiles become a little too brittle. The fingers just a little too pointed as they jab. And Anastasia just takes it, as empty-headed as her mother.

So my twin and I decided to test the lovely Angelica. And if the screaming is any indicator, she’s discovered our little gift.

I feel a little sorry for the newt, being trapped in her bathrobe. But it’s for a good cause.

Kit and I break into laughter as we sneak under the kitchen window and down towards the stream, cutting through the orchard.

I slow as I spot something ahead. Kit pauses next to me, shielding his eyes. “The hell is she doing?”

We both watch as the girl scales another foot of the old apple tree. She’s already several feet from the ground, surprisingly nimble as she pulls herself up onto another branch.

Little idiot. She’s going to get herself killed.

Kit takes off, and I follow him to the foot of the tree. Anastasia is oblivious to our presence as she settles back against the tree, perched on a brand with an apple in her hand.

A curl of interest appears in my stomach as I watch her. She’s kept to herself in the week or so since they arrived. Hiding in her room, silent at meals despite my father’s attempts to draw her out. Awkward and out of place.

But here, she looks… free. Eyes closed, she takes a bite of her apple. Her hair dances around her face in the breeze.

“What are you doing?” Kit hisses, as I put my foot on the first branch. I glance over to him.

“Getting to know our new sister.”

Wiggling my eyebrows, I ignore his frustrated mutters as I climb. I glance up to where a clueless Anastasia is still sitting, one leg dangling from the branch. She looks completely at ease, lips humming tunelessly.

When I get close enough, I call out. “Morning.”

The response is gratifying. Her eyes fly open and she jerks upright. The branch sways beneath her, and I hold out a hand, suddenly debating the wisdom of startling her this high up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She eyes me, skepticism on her face. “Sure you didn’t.”

Then she closes her eyes again, effectively dismissing me. My eyebrows draw together as I glance down to my brother. Kit stares up at us, and he shrugs, motioning me down.

Instead, I climb up further. Anastasia’s eyes fly open as I settle next to her on the branch. “What are you doing?”

Thise close, I can see the freckles dotting her skin. Deep brown eyes flecked with amber glare at me as I reach out and tug her hair, scraped back into a braid that lies over her shoulder. “I thought we could get to know each other a bit better.”

She blinks. “We could do that on the ground.”

Crossing my arms, I shake my head. “I’d say yes, but you seem to disappear every time we try. A little curious, I must admit.”

I smile as the flush spreads across her cheeks and down to her collarbone. “I’m not avoiding you.”

I lean in, my whisper loud. “Liar.”

She purses her lips, glancing away. “I should get inside. My mother will be looking for me.”

“Will she?” I shoot back. “Because she doesn’t seem to look for you much at all.”

I only meant that Angelica seems to be pretty self-serving. If it’s not about her, then she’s not interested. But Anastasia flinches, and I immediately feel like an asshole. “I didn’t mean—,”

“Forget it,” she mutters. She tries to shift on the branch, and it creaks. “This isn’t big enough for both of us.”

Her voice is flat now, and I study her more closely. “Hey,” I say softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

She sniffs. “You didn’t.”

She doesn’t look at me, and I… I don’t like it.

So I reach out, tipping her chin up to see her face.

“Have you heard of personal space?” she snaps. Her fingers slap at mine.

I grin at her. “Is that what that’s called?”

She huffs. “I’m getting down now, Rafael.”

“Rafe,” I say immediately. “Call me Rafe.”

She squints at me. “Okay… Rafe. Getting down now.”

Her movements are sure and steady as she shifts. But the branch creaks again, and I hold out a hand. “Wait.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “This isn’t the first tree I’ve climbed.”

“I guessed,” I say drily. “But there’s two of us on this branch, and we’re pretty high. So maybe just—,”

I’m too late.

The branch snaps beneath us, and Anastasia’s eyes lock on mine for a split second, fear widening them as she reaches towards me.

And then she drops, her fingers barely brushing mine before I lose sight of her.

The air rushes from my lungs as I hit the next branch down, my stomach groaning in protest as I pull myself up. “Anastasia!”

I bellow her name, trying to look down. “Kit!”

Fuck – fuck.

There’s a shout from below me as I slide down as quickly as I can, the bark dragging against the skin of my palms. I drop from a few feet higher than I should, my knees taking the brunt of the impact as I land on the packed mud with a solid thump.

But I don’t care. I’m already scrambling towards the girl on the ground, my heart in my throat. “Kit,” I say hoarsely. “Is she—,”

He ducks out of the way, and something hits me in the head. Hard.

“W hat the fuc- ow,” I rasp, my hand flying up. “What – is she alright?”

“I’m fine,” a furious, feminine voice hisses. “No thanks to you and your ass taking up all the weight on my damn branch.”

My vision clears, and I see her drawing back with another apple. I duck it with a yelp. “Jesus Christ, you harpy. Will you stop? I thought you were dead!”

She’s sat on the floor, and relief fills my chest to see her apparently very much not dead.

But then I see the wince as she moves her left arm – the one not throwing apples at my head. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

Kit tries to inspect it as she lifts another apple threateningly, and she pins him with a look that has him backing away with his hands in the air. “Nothing.”

But a sound of pain escapes her as she scrambles to her feet. Kit slides his hand under her right arm – to hold her steady or disarm her. Anastasia gives him a cutting glance. “You can let go. I’m not going to fall.”

I stride towards her. No, she’s not going to fall.

She’s a bundle of fire and fury in my arms as I sweep her legs out from underneath her and set out for the house, Kit falling in on my other side.

She yelps in shock. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“You have a mouth like a sailor, Stasi,” I shoot back. My eyes drop to her lips and slide away.

She’s fifteen.

I’m seventeen.

It’s not like that. But this protective feeling in my chest… this is new. At least for anyone outside of my immediate family.

She’s cursing me again, but I just hold her tighter, my arms curling around her protectively as I head for the house to get help. To make sure she’s not hurt.

My father calls a doctor, who confirms that her wrist is sprained. Kit and I both get a verbal slapdown, but I don’t give a fuck.

As soon as it’s over, we head back to Anastasia’s room. She’s propped up, staring morosely out of the window towards the orchard.

We sit by her bedside.

She sniffs. “Back again?”

“Couldn’t stay away,” I drawl. “Must have been your sparkling personality.”

I catch it, then. Just a glimpse. Like it’s something precious.

The edge of a smile on her lips.

And as I sit there, teasing and taunting until she finally grants me the full effect of her laughter, I feel Stasi weave her way into my heart.

She won’t be fifteen forever. Two years.

I can wait two years.

For her.