Stella closed the window. “Nope. Not doing that,” she said quietly, going completely still. That video had over nine thousand views.

Somewhere on the internet, the entirety of Golden Weekend X was being livestreamed to the masses.

A million questions ripped through Stella’s brain. The hows, the whys, the whats, not to mention the ethical dilemma of whether or not to tell the others. They had a right to know, didn’t they?

Except she couldn’t tell them.

Jewel must have known Stella would find out about the broadcast. If she told them, they would ask her how she knew and she’d have to tell them about the livestream, which she’d been expressly forbidden from doing.

Loophole closed.

Never in her life had she ever been so blindsided. Nobody one-upped her, ever. That was something that happened to other people.

Two soft knocks sounded on the red door with the black knob. Harlow.

Harlow. Stella could tell her! Excited, she tossed her tablet down, running to the door. “You will never guess what I figured out,” she said, then snapped her mouth shut.

Harlow took gasping breaths through her mouth as she sobbed. Her runny nose would give Rudolph a run for his reindeer money, and her eyes were equally red. “Can—I—please—” She dissolved into a cough-inducing sobbing fit.

“Not going to do the thing where I ask if you’re okay because you’re clearly not,” Stella said carefully. “So, what do you need?”

Harlow must have been truly desperate to knock on Stella’s door. She wrapped her arms around herself as she visibly trembled. “I—want—my—sister—I—”

“Ah, Winnow, yes.”

“H-h-how do you know her name?”

“Funny story about that. You probably won’t laugh,” she said with a sigh. “You can come in. If you want.”

One of Stella’s favorite words was distraught. She’d say that to her mom before dramatically throwing herself onto the nearest surface while pretending to wail. She thought it was hilarious. Actually, seeing it was anything but. Harlow embodied every sense of the word, truly beside herself with distress. She walked into Stella’s room and just stood there. In the middle of the room, still sobbing.

“You can also sit down,” Stella said, wrestling with her patience. “On the bed. Come on.”

While Harlow sat, Stella ran to the bathroom to get some tissues. She picked up the box, thought better of it, and grabbed a towel instead. Less wasteful. “Here,” she said, handing it to Harlow. “Would you like to, uh, talk about what’s bothering you?”

Harlow wailed in one long breath.

“Was it the challenge? Too much?”

She started crying harder.

“We could also not talk. I’m fine with that. Silence doesn’t bother me at all—and we’re touching. Okay, okay.” Harlow had flung herself onto Stella. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and buried her face in Stella’s neck.