It tasted like any ordinary well water, cool and smooth as she swallowed. Staring at the empty vial, the girl took a deep breath. How could one tell if it was working? Would the blood run cold in their veins, change course?
"Winnie," she said to the air, "don't be silly. Jesse said they couldn't tell, until they shot themselves. And I'm not doing that. Dear God, am I talking to myself?"
She shook her long hair back from her shoulders, adjusted her disheveled dress. Holding her chin high in the air, she told the mirror one more time, "I'm not going to think about it until tonight."
Jesse sat against the tree, leaning against the cool, constant bark. "Miles," he asked, his voice unsure, "Do you think she will come?"
His brother groaned. He propped his walking stick, freshly cut, against the rock. "Calm down, Jes. If you keep thinking about it, you'll drive yourself crazy." He leaned over and moved the flat, smooth rock. Taking a deep drink, he sighed. "Don't worry. No matter what happens, everything will work itself out."
"How do you know that?" the seventeen year old sighed, sprawling even more thoroughly on the ground. "How do you know everything will be fine!"
"Because I'm your older brother," Miles asserted himself, "and because I'm right."