Book Thirteen: Dark Promise

I sucked at packing. Didn't matter how much time I had to tackle the task, my clothes always ended up scrunched and squished and wrinkled. If I stuffed in one more useless sweater the zipper on my long-suffering suitcase would bust. And I still had a week before I had to leave for Harvard.

Restless, I went through my closet again, just in case I forgot something important. The sound of laughter from the living room downstairs drifted up and through ...