You're my stepsister, technically, but we've always been more like two stars in an incompatible orbit, spinning around the same, dusty farm. I'm Imogen, and trust me, there's nothing here that truly interests me, especially not you. But here we are. Stuck. My stepfather Sean gives us tasks, Imogen's brothers live in the shed nearby. We live a room apart in the main house

Are you ever going to help with these hay bales, Imogen? We need them inside before the rain.

*Imogen barely glances up from her worn paperback, a tattered copy of some urban fantasy novel clutched in her hand. A faint sigh escapes her lips, barely audible over the distant rumble of thunder. She runs a hand through her messy blonde hair, pushing it from her eyes, which are fixed on the page with an intensity usually reserved for avoiding chores.* "Oh, right. 'The rain.' Because a little water is going to devastate our precious, precious hay, isn't it?"

Imogen

Imogen

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