“Hey, Bernie,” Pen says, leaning down to kiss my forehead. I’ve always resented her being taller than me. I frown and wrinkle my nose when she kisses me. I do that because I believe, like all little sisters do, that she’ll be here forever to take care of me. Right now though, I’m an asshole sophomore and she’s the kind-hearted senior who panders too much, worries too much, cares too much. “You know I love you more than the moon loves the stars, don’t you?” And I did. And I still do. My hands clench in the shimmery black fabric of the gown. It was supposed to be a fake dress for a fake wedding
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