Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)

by Elsie Silver

The world is dark, but she’s like the moon when we sat on the roof. Bright and pure, shedding a silvery light over everything so that I can still see where I’m going.

I’m too tired to focus on anything other than how the water is the exact color of Sloane’s eyes. I was wrong about the sky. I was wrong about the eggshell. It’s the glacier lake. I see her everywhere.

Because I’ve been staring at Jasper Gervais since I was ten years old, and suddenly . . . he’s staring back.

The sky is blue. The grass is green. And I’ve loved Jasper Gervais from the first day I laid eyes on him.

Everyone in my life has treated me like the tiny ballerina inside a jewelry box. Nice to look at and cute to listen to when you’re in the mood, but easily shut away when you have something else to do. I’m furious with myself for smiling and spinning every time someone opened that box. I’m angry at myself for not flipping them the finger and refusing to twirl around mindlessly.