“Rory,” I said, using that tone. “I didn’t do anything,” she whined. “Why are you mad at me?” Jamie snickered, and I smiled over her head. “Come out of there. Let me look at you.” “No.” She refused. Her bratty attitude was a good sign she wasn’t seriously hurt. “High-maintenance,” Jamie sang. She gasped. The force of it brought her out of my neck.
