“Tell me a story,” Margot said. Anne laughed. Margot was always the one who could fall asleep easily, but now she was the one who wished for a story. “Really,” Margot said. They looked at each other through the dark. “You’re so good at it.” Anne nodded. “Once upon a time,” she began. But how could she tell her sister the tragic Greek myths she loved best, the one about the girl who was kidnapped and taken down to the underworld, or the one about the girl who was turned into a spider, or the girl who had opened the jar that had allowed evil into the world? In myths, humans were bent and broken
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