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When Evie thinks, it’s like a massive explosion of pure sin comes out. Evie had always been a rebel, an extremely bad girl. She wasn’t one of those Goth rebels; however, she was wearing black nail polish and eyeliner that rainy Saturday afternoon. Her iPod laid motionlessly on her bony shoulder. Evie had just updated her play list for “Rainy Days.” She swung her legs around the large beach chair that was occupied by her sister, Melanie, and Evie herself.

“Mel, do you ever think about what it would be like if we weren’t born? Like, if we just some random spirits floating around and guiding everybody. I mean sorta like, Guardian Angels, kinda?”
“No. Quit bothering me. I’m reading Animal Farm.”

My sister was a massive animal lover. She would start to cry if I killed one ant. She was, at this very moment, wearing a Save the Whales tee shirt. I was wearing Nicole Ricci sunglasses and drinking Lemon
Jasmine tea. I was 12 and Mel was 19. She was visiting from Yale this month. She told me she missed Florida. I didn’t disagree with her. We lived right next to the beach and had parties with unbelievably loud music almost every night.