Arden looked up.
“Remember when we used to count stars on the ceiling?”
Avery smiled. “You always cheated.”
“They were painted stars. There were only thirty-six.”
“You still counted thirty-seven.”
“I was ambitious.”
Avery laughed.
Then Arden grew thoughtful.
“Do you ever wish we had been normal sisters?”
Avery considered the question.
Normal.
Such a small word for such an impossible dream.
“I wish we had been allowed to be children,” she said.
Arden nodded.
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