Book Thirteen: Dark Promise
I sucked at packing. Didn't matter how much time I had to tackle the task, my clothes always ended up scrunched and squished and wrinkled. If I stuffed in one more useless sweater the zipper on my long-suffering suitcase would bust. And I still had a week before I had to leave for Harvard.
Restless, I went through my closet again, just in case I forgot something important. The sound of laughter from the living room downstairs drifted up and through my open bedroom door, enticing, but not enough to keep my slightly fractured attention. I could have gone down and sat with Gram and Meira. Sprawled for Sass to sit on my stomach. Privately giggled at how stiff and formal Charlotte held herself even when relaxing in front of a movie, but I just couldn't make myself sit still.