HIS FAVORITE SIN!

Preliminary round

Anna

“Annie, don’t be mad, okay? You know he’s not like that. He’s just been… stressed lately.” Danielle hurried to match my pace—something I used to find comforting, but now, I did everything I could to avoid walking beside her.

Her kindness only made my guilt worse.

I tugged at the hoodie covering my head, silently wishing I could teleport straight home.

“I know. He gets like this when his grandpa is home, right?” I said, the words falling out automatically. I’d never met the man, but apparently Rowan didn’t like him. I say apparently because that’s childhood memory talking—I never witnessed it myself. But before everything went to hell, I remembered Rowan mentioning him once his cold, controlling grandpa, the root of that quiet rage Rowan never showed anyone else. Except me.

“Yes. Exactly. He’s even cold with me when his grandpa’s around, so don’t let his words get to you. Annie, your words matter—to me and to everyone.”

That was Danielle’s curse: she saw good where there was none. Any sane person would hate me—my family ruined hers. But she didn’t. She just kept showing up with warmth I didn’t think I deserved. And that? That made me hate myself even more.

“I doubt that,” I muttered.

Rowan’s anger I could understand. It was rooted in something. It made sense. But Danielle’s kindness? It was a mystery I wasn’t brave enough to solve.

“I’m serious!” she insisted. “Your points were valid. There’s no way a book that talks about s*x and fantasy romance would be approved as a play here—not at HCA. If it flops, it’ll be because of the system, not your speech.”

Great. So that’s what she thought of Midnight Siren. A reckless fantasy. I wonder how she’d feel if she found out I was the one who wrote it.

She’d support you, a quiet voice whispered. But I shut it down.

“By the way, what’s with the hoodie? You’ve had it on all day. What’s going on?”

She reached for the hood playfully, but I dodged her hand.

“Nothing. We had picture day at the newsroom and, well—my hair’s a mess, as you know.” I gave her a self-deprecating joke, hoping she’d drop it.

She didn’t.

“Really? Let me see! I miss your curly mess.” She said, reaching again. I took three steps back.

“I’m serious, Dani. You don’t want to see the mess under here.” I forced a chuckle. It used to come naturally around her. Now, it felt strained.

A horn honked from the courtyard—her cue.

“Oh, alright. But we are having that hair date, okay? No more postponing. I’ll have you looking like your junior high self in no time,” she said with a wink before skipping toward her car.

A sleek black Bentley, parked just across the street from where I’d be catching the bus. Probably habit for her driver to stop there—it’s where he picked her up every day back in junior year. Before my aunt screwed up their lives. And by extension, mine.

“Well, today was peachy,” I muttered.

17:30. Great.

Did I mention something about a bus earlier? Well, lucky me—it got stuck on Sixth Avenue, about three streets away from my neighborhood. Uphill. Fancy side. HCA side.

So I walked.

Two and a half hours, beating myself up the whole way for forgetting my purse again. Not that it had much in it, but still—maybe it would have hurt less to know I had no money, than to hope for a taxi I couldn’t afford.

“Mom. I’m home!” I called, trying to sound cheerful.

Silence.

Then—sobs.

My heart dropped as I bolted toward the sound. “Mom?!”

She was on the floor. I rushed to her side and dropped to my knees. “What are you doing down there?”

She hiccupped, then quickly wiped her tears. “Anna, honey… I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That doesn’t matter. Why are you sitting on the floor? You know how easily you get cold!” I scolded gently, worry seeping into every word.

She laughed weakly. “I’m stronger than you think, you know.”

“I know—” I stopped mid-sentence. My eyes caught something.

A crumpled piece of paper.

I reached for it. So did she. But I got there first.

“Anna, honey—”

“What the hell?” I whispered, staring at the words.

“Next time it will be written in using your blood.”

My breath hitched. “It’s them, isn’t it? The loan sharks? The ones Mary Lindsey left us to deal with?”

My voice was shaking, but the anger beneath it was sharp—ready to cut.

“Anna—”

“It is them!” I shouted.

Another gift from my lovely aunt: debt. A massive one. The kind you don’t just pay off. The kind that sticks like a curse. I might’ve ignored it if it was just that—money. But these people had made it very clear that they knew where my mother worked. Where I went to school. And I didn’t need one more label at HCA—especially not this one.

“What the hell do they want now? We just paid them a few days ago!” I screamed.

“Anna, language—”

“What, I can’t curse when your sister left us in a mess so deep we’re drowning?! When we can’t even breathe without someone throwing stones at us for being homewreckers or getting threats from criminals I didn’t even know existed in Hillcrest?!”

Too far. I knew it. It wasn’t fair to take it out on my mother. But today was hell, and I’d had enough.

I stomped up to my room, ignoring her soft knocks on the door. I must have passed out at some point, because the next time I stirred was from the ping of a message.

The school bulletin. From the newsroom.

“Attention: The following books have passed the preliminary rounds and await final selection:

Romeo and Juliet: A Duet

And

Midnight Siren.

Midnight Siren.

My book.

Great.

So much for killing it before it lit a fire I couldn’t put out.