“Rosie?” my sister calls as she knocks on my door. My eyes flicker open, and I wonder what time it is. “Are you up yet?”
“Ahh!” I pull the covers over my head when she turns on the light because my eyes aren’t ready for it.
I tossed and turned most of the night, but I must have finally crashed at some point. There’s no way I’ve been asleep for long because I feel exhausted.
“What are you doing?” She laughs and yanks the blanket down. “You’re going to be late. I made breakfast.”
She is way too chipper this morning, and why didn’t my alarm go off? Oh yeah, it’s because my phone is busted.
“Cereal?” I love my sister, but she’s a terrible cook. When we lived in Vegas, I did the cooking. Graham does the overseeing of the house, and more often than not there are meals prepared so that we on
