“He’s asleep, just kiss him,” Miya nudged Luna closer to the couch where Yatsu petted their older sister.

“No,” Luna protested again, her cheeks turning crimson.

“Why not?”

“Because…” Luna trailed off and twirled her hair. “He’s Sasha’s boyfriend.”

“Psh, such a lame excuse.” Miya stopped pushing. “It won’t even count as your first kiss,” I just need to see something.

“I won’t do it,” Luna said, but made no attempt to escape.

“No?” Miya leaned against the wall. “Well, I thought you wanted to kiss him, you know, to try it. Otherwise your real first kiss might end up a messy one,” Miya hid a grin. “I wonder what that boy would say if you slobbered all over him, especially if it were a boy you really liked.”

Luna glanced toward Yatsu. “I-if that boy liked me back, he’d probably be fine with a messy first kiss.”

Miya threw up her arms. “I give up, you’re impossible! Corny! This is probably the one chance you have! The first boy you kiss will probably be after you turn thirty!” said Miya jetting around the corner to the kitchen to hide behind a wall.

Typical Luna, I know you’re jealous I kissed him. You’re obsessed with their relationship! You tied me up just so you could listen to Sasha’s kissing stories.

Miya peeked and found Luna standing stone still, staring at the couch. Then she stepped toward the basement door but paused.

Is she thinking about it?

Luna took another two steps toward the basement door and stopped again before spinning around and walking all the way over to Yatsu.

“She’s gunna do it!”

Luna leaned in, paused again, then leaned in the rest of the way.

Did it work? Miya rushed out of hiding as Luna pecked Yatsu square on the lips.

Then Luna pulled back with her cheeks glowing crimson, but otherwise, it didn’t work. Sasha always looked much happier after she kissed Yatsu.

“Why?” Why didn’t it work? Why does Sasha like him so much? He’s a loser, a wimp, an idiot that gets beat up. “Why!” Miya shouted. “Why does she love you?” Miya’s throat hurt. “I-I don’t get it!” She dashed to the basement and slammed the door shut behind her. She flew downstairs and ran to her bed, tossing her blanket over her head.

In the dark, her mind raced through the list of things Sasha would like Yatsu for. Reevaluating everything she crossed off. “I don’t get it.”

Her thoughts were interrupted when the stairs creaked.

The footsteps were too heavy for Luna and Sasha was still in a dead sleep. Yatsu is in the basement?

Miya listened for her traps. Her trip-string attached to jars, her low-hanging light. She waited for Yatsu to hit or step on one, but instead he sat by her feet, the bed sagging under his weight. He sat there a while without saying anything.

Miya’s thoughts wandered. Hiding under her blanket with someone at her feet reminded her of a dark memory. A long time ago she hid under her covers like now, only back then she shook in fear. Scared her sister would kill her.

Yatsu deserves to know.

Miya breathed deep and spoke. “I still don’t get it,” she rose to her knees, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. “I don’t know why Sasha likes you so much. She’s never liked anyone as much as she likes you but she does, and you deserve to know... something.”

Yatsu remained silent, but Miya felt his gaze on her.

“Luna and I both remember something Sasha doesn’t and we don’t dare jog her memory,” Images of the past flashed in her head. A chill crawled down her spine. “Shortly after Sasha’s ninth birthday, Luna and I were four, our parents left for work and left behind a babysitter. I don’t remember too much about her, but I felt we got along pretty good for a while, until something happened. Maybe the babysitter’s boyfriend broke up with her or something stupid, but I don’t know. Just suddenly she got angry. Commanding, yelling, screaming, pulling on our hair to drag us around,” Miya pulled her covers tighter around herself. “What I do remember clearly though, is our babysitter falling from the second story of our old house, smashing her head open on the hardwood floor, and Sasha standing where she fell from, staring down with a cold dead gaze.”