Quite a feat, I’d say, given that neither of us have left the apartment since this afternoon. But between Ivy catching up on school work and my own top-notch avoidance skills, I was successfully able to stall the inevitable until I felt that I would be better equipped to handle this.

Alas, five hours later, I find that I’m still no better equipped to handle this.

“You’re a drama queen, you know that?” Behind me, I hear the rustle of clothes as Ivy climbs through my window and onto the fire escape. “All dark and broody with your cigarettes under the setting sun. Head bent over a notebook. Tell me, dear cousin, are your lyrics as clichéd as you?”

Blowing out the last dregs of smoke, I roll my eyes as I finish tweaking the line I’ve been staring at for far too long. My throat burns from one too many cigarettes, and I can only imagine how gravelly I’d sound right now if I sang the trash sitting in my lap.

Drama queen is right, I think as I scowl, slamming my notebook shut. I fold it up and tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans as I stand.

Stretching my arms above my head, I squint at the yellow burst of light falling over the distant horizon. I toss what’s left of my cigarette over the railing and run my fingers through my sweaty hair, wondering if I have time to take another quick shower. Would it even be worth it? The sun might be falling, but it’s not like the heat is going anywhere.

Ivy’s small body bumps into mine as she takes up the spot next to me. Unlike earlier, her hair is a sleek sheet of black that falls down her back, the ends teasing along her curved elbows. Her freckles have been washed out with make-up and her eyes are heavily lined in black, making the green color even more startling and cat-like. The only other shot of color on an otherwise black-and-white canvas is the ruby-red slash of her lips, and the subtle undertones of red and green in the large inked raven across her collarbone.

Red and green: her two favorite colors. Ironic really, given that she’s a Christmas Eve baby and, naturally, she hates Christmas. But my cousin’s nothing if not hopelessly contradictory.

“So what happened to you last night? I never saw you come back.”

A siren wails from across town, bouncing off the tin roofs of nearby buildings. I shrug, watching as Ivy pulls out a joint from her back pocket. Lighting up, she takes a long drag and the sweet scent tickles my nose.