(Millie POV)
I threw up at seven fifteen on Friday morning in the upstairs bathroom while Adrianna was downstairs boiling water. It was going to have to be. The throwing-up was the throwing-up I had heard about in books and movies, the throwing-up that was real, that was happening to my own body, the kind of throwing-up that happens when your body has decided it is going to do something about your secrets whether your mouth is ready or not. I had been pretending since Sunday that my stomach was behaving. I had been pretending because I had been taking small bites of Adrianna's grapefruit halves and rinsing my mouth with cold water between bites, and Adrianna had been too busy locking doors to look at my face, and Richard had been too busy cooking eggs to see the way I was chewing. But the
