Maeve
Myla pulled the thin straps of her dress over her delicate shoulders, reaching down to smooth the fabric over her belly. “What do we think of this one?” she asked, doing a little twirl.
Gemma looked over at her, a tube of lipstick in her hands. “Oh, I think that’s the one. Green is definitely your color, My.”
Myla smiled, fluffing her bouncy black curls as she bent closer to the vanity mirror. “Have you decided what you’re wearing yet, Maeve? We have to go soon. The train to the Uni leaves in an hour.”
I had been standing in the corner of Myla’s room, staring out the window that overlooked the sleepy street outside. It was only five o’clock, but the village was almost lifeless. “Where is everyone?”
Gemma smacked her lips in the mirror over Myla’s shoulder, pulling her long brown
