"Willa," I warned under my breath. Holding my eyes steady, I glared at my younger sister with scathing anger.

"Albany, chill," she said with an uncanny amount of nonchalance.

At ease, she rolled her eyes and took my father's seat at the head of the kitchen table. My jaw tightened. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she had the nerve to be smug about it. A low growl curled my lip, and I clenched my fists against my sides. Not today.

"What do you want, Willa?" I grit through my teeth.

She took her time studying the perfect edges of her fingernails in the light, before she answered me, "Nothing in particular."

"If that was true, then you wouldn't be here trying to blackmail me."

"Blackmail? Me? Can't I just spend time with my three favorite people?"

"Willa," Cherie, Michael, and I all said at the same time. Amused would be the last word to describe our expressions.

"Fine," she finally said. "But it isn't blackmail. I just want some things that only secrets can buy."

My hand slapped against my forehead. "That is literally the definition of blackmail."

Willa shrugged. "Potato, po-ta-toe."

Cherie, Michael, and I exchanged wary glances that always trailed back to Willa. Suddenly, me having a job was not our most pressing problem: Willa was. If she told my father about my job, I wouldn't be the only one to suffer. On Willa's account, all three of us would be held accountable. And with my father's strict rules, that would be a very very bad thing—especially for Cherie and Michael, who were supposed to prevent from doing stupid things like getting a job.

So putting on my best poker face, with a very controlled and forcibly calm voice I said, "What do you want, then?"

"Nothing in particular . . ." she trailed off, drumming her fingers mindlessly against the table.

"If that was true, then you would have already called dad and told him what I did. But you didn't, so I won't ask again. What do you want, Willa?"

Her gray eyes that were too much like mine rose slowly from the table. They shined brightly in the daylight as she made eye contact with me.

"First, I want them to leave. This is business between me and you, and I don't need them snooping."

Cherie and Michael shared worried glances, and all I could do was look on in sympathy. We were trapped animals in a corner with no way out in sight. At least, not unless we gave Willa what she wanted—whatever it may be.

"It's fine," I said. My eyes narrowed, never wavering from Willa's patient stare. "I won't let her do anything stupid."

Blood pooled underneath the skin on her cheeks, spreading a rosy color that was more splotchy than flattering on her pale complexion. With homeschooling, there was hardly enough sun in her life to bring color to her skin. That's why she always stuck out like an eye sore in family pictures. It wasn't because she was ugly, because she wasn't. She was one of those rare, beautiful people that you just stare at because they remind you of the sun and all of the good things this world still has to offer. But she was paler than the rest of us. Her bones still protruded beyond the thin layer of fat that managed to survive leukemia treatment. She was different—in a good way, I always thought—and it was obvious to anyone who dared to see it.

"That's not what I'm concerned about," Michael muttered as Cherie walked out the kitchen door with him.

Once we were completely and utterly alone, with nothing to comfort us but the still silence, Willa sank into our father's chair and pushed shorter strands of dark hair behind her ears. Ah, I thought dryly. No longer has the need to act superior, I see.

"There was something you wanted?" I cleared my throat.

Willa's eyes lifted with sudden interest.

"Yes." Her voice was soft like a dove, yet as commanding as the highest ranked officer of the military. There was a reason why she always obtained what she wanted, and it wasn't because she's cute. "I heard you got a job at Frank's Bookstore in Downtown Los Angeles?"

My jaw twitched and tightened. How did she know that?

"Where did you hear that?"

High-pitched giggles escaped her throat.

"In denial already, I see. Very interesting . . ." she trailed off. "A bookstore? I'm the only one in the family who reads, and I doubt the pay is higher than your weekly allowance."

I bit the inside of my cheek too hard, causing a bitter, metallic taste to permeate my throat.

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

Willa rolled her eyes.

"I don't care where you work, Albany, and I couldn't care less how much you make. I have my own allowance."

"But?"

"But, I can't drive myself to places . . . And mom and dad won't let anyone take me where I want to go because they're always obsessed with keeping me safe." She muttered the last words darkly, as if our parents' motto was a curse instead of an act of love.

"So you want a personal chauffeur?" I guessed. That seemed like an unlikely outcome. Couldn't she just buy an Uber?Maybe that isn't legal yet at twelve years old.

She bit her lip and looked down.

"Not quite. . . ."

I released a deep breath.

"You do realize that I'm not a mind reader, right? If you want something, you need to be blunt and direct."

Willa's dark eyelashes fluttered. Pale gray irises made a striking, beautiful contrast to their almost-black counterparts.

Finally, after a long pause, she said, "But I don't think you'll give me what I want," barely above a whisper.

"Willa—" My voice immediately softened.

She raised her palm, silencing me like a hot knife cutting through butter.

"Enough. I know what I want. And if you don't give it to me, I will tell mom and dad about your job. Simple."
Her eyes were suddenly dull, and the shadows underneath them were purple and dark. They contrasted her fair skin starkly, making her appear more sickly than tired. Perhaps she hasn't seen the sun for longer than I thought.
The return of her fingers tapping against the pulled me to reality, and I coughed out, "Agreed," after a short pause.
With a satisfied smile, she wrapped her arm against the back of her chair. Her teeth glinted under the overhead lights, reflecting the purest color of white.

"I want you to take me to a book club."