Read Online Wish by Alexandra Bullen - Free Book Online
Authors: Alexandra Bullen
Tags: Fiction
Ads: Link
flopping to cross-legs on the bed beside her sister. “Dead, O, you can say it. It won’t make me any deader to say it out loud.”
“Right,” Olivia said. “Sorry. You’re dead. But also…”
Violet smiled, the cigarette perched casually at the corner of her lips.
“You’re here?” Olivia asked quietly.
Violet took the burning filter from her mouth and flicked it across the room and through the open window.
“Either that,” she said, placing a gentle hand on Olivia’s trembling knee, “or this is one hell of a hangover.”
8
“O f course they wait until I’m dead to do something like this.”
Violet and Olivia were crouched on the balcony outside of Olivia’s room, knees hugged tightly into their shirts to keep warm in the chilly predawn air. Across the street, Dolores Park was covered in half shadows, the tall row of trees cutting a ragged silhouette against the lifting curtain of night.
“Like what?” Olivia asked. The pounding in her head had somewhat lessened and had been quickly replaced by a jumble of cloudy memories and frantic questions.
Starting with: Was it possible that one of her drinks last night had been laced with a hallucinogenic drug?
“Like this!” Violet flung her arms wide, indicating the picturesque city skyline that was just beginning to assert itself from beneath the darkness. From up here, the rows of pastel houses looked like a page from a pop-up book. It was a stunning view, but Olivia couldn’t take her eyes off of her sister.
“Do you have any idea how lucky you are to live here?” Violet asked, snapping another cigarette free from a pack in her pocket.
Olivia kept staring at her sister’s profile. Violet. Violet was back. Violet was sitting right beside her. She looked a little paler, maybe, and a little thinner, too—Olivia noticed a trail of blue veins crisscrossing the insides of her sister’s wrists, veins she didn’t remember ever seeing before. But other than that, it was the same old Violet. The same wild, copper-colored hair; the same sparkling, impish eyes.
She was even wearing the same knee-length jean cutoffs, the ones she’d made from an old pair of Sevens, which fit perfectly up top but had been about two inches two short at the ankles. And the same apple green lace camisole she always wore under dresses in the summer.
It was exactly the outfit Violet had been wearing the last time Olivia had seen her, on the beach that night…
“What’s up?” Violet asked, inhaling deeply as she struck a match.
Olivia shook her head, mute. If she started asking questions, it would mean she was starting to believe. It would mean she’d accepted that this was actually happening.
“You still don’t believe this is actually happening, do you?”
Olivia’s eyes shot up to her sister’s face.
Violet smiled and rocked on her hips, nudging Olivia’s side and shoulder. “Don’t look so horrified!” she shouted. “It’s not like we couldn’t read each other’s minds when I was alive. Why should it be any different now?”
Olivia chewed at the inside of her lip. Violet, or the ghost of Violet, or the drug-induced apparition Olivia had accidentallyconjured that looked a lot like Violet… Whoever she was, she did have a point. “But,” Olivia quietly began, “how?”
Violet shrugged. “Does it matter?” she asked, flashing her sister a tricky smile.
Olivia rolled her eyes. Violet had been back for less than an hour and already she was being difficult. “Kind of,” Olivia hissed. “I mean, you go to sleep and your sister is dead. You wake up, and she’s smoking butts on the balcony. It’s not exactly your average turn of events.”
Violet took a deep drag off her cigarette and ashed it between the chipped-white bars of the painted iron railing. “Well,” she said, “you know how I feel about average.”
Without thinking, Olivia reached forward and pinched the glowing cigarette from between her sister’s lips. “True,” she
“Right,” Olivia said. “Sorry. You’re dead. But also…”
Violet smiled, the cigarette perched casually at the corner of her lips.
“You’re here?” Olivia asked quietly.
Violet took the burning filter from her mouth and flicked it across the room and through the open window.
“Either that,” she said, placing a gentle hand on Olivia’s trembling knee, “or this is one hell of a hangover.”
8
“O f course they wait until I’m dead to do something like this.”
Violet and Olivia were crouched on the balcony outside of Olivia’s room, knees hugged tightly into their shirts to keep warm in the chilly predawn air. Across the street, Dolores Park was covered in half shadows, the tall row of trees cutting a ragged silhouette against the lifting curtain of night.
“Like what?” Olivia asked. The pounding in her head had somewhat lessened and had been quickly replaced by a jumble of cloudy memories and frantic questions.
Starting with: Was it possible that one of her drinks last night had been laced with a hallucinogenic drug?
“Like this!” Violet flung her arms wide, indicating the picturesque city skyline that was just beginning to assert itself from beneath the darkness. From up here, the rows of pastel houses looked like a page from a pop-up book. It was a stunning view, but Olivia couldn’t take her eyes off of her sister.
“Do you have any idea how lucky you are to live here?” Violet asked, snapping another cigarette free from a pack in her pocket.
Olivia kept staring at her sister’s profile. Violet. Violet was back. Violet was sitting right beside her. She looked a little paler, maybe, and a little thinner, too—Olivia noticed a trail of blue veins crisscrossing the insides of her sister’s wrists, veins she didn’t remember ever seeing before. But other than that, it was the same old Violet. The same wild, copper-colored hair; the same sparkling, impish eyes.
She was even wearing the same knee-length jean cutoffs, the ones she’d made from an old pair of Sevens, which fit perfectly up top but had been about two inches two short at the ankles. And the same apple green lace camisole she always wore under dresses in the summer.
It was exactly the outfit Violet had been wearing the last time Olivia had seen her, on the beach that night…
“What’s up?” Violet asked, inhaling deeply as she struck a match.
Olivia shook her head, mute. If she started asking questions, it would mean she was starting to believe. It would mean she’d accepted that this was actually happening.
“You still don’t believe this is actually happening, do you?”
Olivia’s eyes shot up to her sister’s face.
Violet smiled and rocked on her hips, nudging Olivia’s side and shoulder. “Don’t look so horrified!” she shouted. “It’s not like we couldn’t read each other’s minds when I was alive. Why should it be any different now?”
Olivia chewed at the inside of her lip. Violet, or the ghost of Violet, or the drug-induced apparition Olivia had accidentallyconjured that looked a lot like Violet… Whoever she was, she did have a point. “But,” Olivia quietly began, “how?”
Violet shrugged. “Does it matter?” she asked, flashing her sister a tricky smile.
Olivia rolled her eyes. Violet had been back for less than an hour and already she was being difficult. “Kind of,” Olivia hissed. “I mean, you go to sleep and your sister is dead. You wake up, and she’s smoking butts on the balcony. It’s not exactly your average turn of events.”
Violet took a deep drag off her cigarette and ashed it between the chipped-white bars of the painted iron railing. “Well,” she said, “you know how I feel about average.”
Without thinking, Olivia reached forward and pinched the glowing cigarette from between her sister’s lips. “True,” she
Similar Books
