Fedosia's POV

"THIS IS TO FEDDOSYA AVERIN." The note reads, misspelling my name.

"IF YOU AREN'T FEDDOSYA, READ NO FURTHER, YOU NOSEY PERSON.

To Feddosya,

1. Sorry

2. I didn't tell them to gang up on you, they lied.

3. We can arrange a time to hang out on Monday

(WE'RE STILL NOT FRIENDS, BY THE WAY, I JUST FEEL BAD)

Yours sincerely, Rosaline Macey Chambers."

I can barely believe it.

She took the time to post a note through the letter box.

But more importantly, she ASKED to hang out.

I feel my heart lift with happiness.

"Whose that from, your boyfriend?" Miles giggled, watching me like a hawk from the corner of the room.

"Nope. It's from Kim Kardashian, asking me to build her a spaceship."

"Really?"

"No."

"Whose it from, then?"

"That, is absolutely none of your business."

I lie in my bed that night, thinking about the previous four or five weeks.

How time flies.

It feels like I only met Rosaline yesterday.

Eventually my eyes drift to the photos on my bedside table, and my heart begins to ache with sadness.

The photos are of a short, curvy girl with caramel coloured eyes and lightly tanned skin, like me.

Her hair is slightly darker though, more of a Malibu blonde than platinum blonde.

Her narrow, gorgeous eyes are sparkling and her rosebud lips are smiling as snowflakes fall around her.

Nika Averin.

My big sister.

On the next photo, there's a tall, handsome young man with the same eyes as me, Nika, Alec and Miles, but his hair is dark brown.

Paddy Averin.

My dad.

He has his arm around a dainty young girl, with snowy white-blonde curls like mine, but to her waist.

Her eyes are icy blue, like Nik's, but unlike everyone else in the family, her skin is a pearly pale and she has rosy cheeks.

She's smiling, a beautiful smile.

Franka Averin.

My mum.