This is so not where I thought this was going. She seems to have completelyforgotten that I’m in the middle of a five-alarm meltdown over my sisterbeing dead. “‘Celebrate’? Bee—I have no desire to celebrate. My sister —”
“Your sister is dead, Wren,” she says emphatically. The shock of thatstatement does a great job of shutting me up. Bee, however, does not take itback. “She’s dead. But you’re not. And if she were here, she’d want you tocelebrate. She’d want you to be happy.”
“I’ll be happy tomorr —”
“Nuh-uh. Sorry. That’s not an option. We’re going out tonight to celebrate.”
She starts to head for the door, as if it’s decided. “Bee, for God’s sake! I’mnot in the mood to get dressed up and hit some lame club and pretend tohave a good time. Plus, we
