Special mass release for the novel's launch, 12/20.
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MISHA
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Nonna Giulia Santorini had called all the thirteen of us to a private talk in her room before dinner, all of us except for Mia, who was still playing the rebel, and sulking in her room. I have no idea how she can stay in there for two weeks straight, it's baffling. How can she even stay tanned when she avoids sunlight like a cat avoids water? It's bizarre, but I'm not worried enough to do anything about it.
Last time when I heard Emma and went after the girl, she freaked out, was beyond rude, and then left. She always leaves when I'm near, it's infuriatingly annoying, both because I have no idea what I did for her to hate me like that, and because I also have no idea why I care. I love Emma, but some times I find my mind wandering around Zoe Maud, and it's no short of infuriating.
I don't like her like that, I'm sure I love Emma. She is amazing enough to never have brought up the 176 letters she full heartedly made for me, when I most needed, since she probably didn't do it to gain anything from it, and I respected that, it became our sacred secret. As long as she didn't want to even mention it, I wouldn't. I like the whole sharing a secret thing, it's magical.
It was easy to guess who had wrote it for me, because the handwriting was delicate like her, it had a cinnamon scent just like hers, dried roses which she helped her mama plant on the garden, and she's the only one whom I had randomly told what my favorite sweet was. She remembered everything.
She was also always the sweetest of the three Santorini girls, and our dear steward told me it came from one of the Santorini girls. There was absolute no way it would be Julia Beatrix because she only had eyes for my older brother Vlad.
Zoe Maud was absolutely cut off the list since she couldn't care less about anyone but herself since ever, and she would never be capable of writing such heartfelt letters. Her mind was focused on her being better than all of us, and on proving that she was better than anyone else. She only cared about her papa, her mama, and sometimes about Leo. There was absolutely no way she would ever waste her time on anything related to me, when she's made it clear that she doesn't likes me.
What to expect from a girl that when she was 10 years old, instead of being with us and spending Christmas night with all of us, playing, making memories, was too busy in her room tracing strategies for how she would get into all Ivy leagues and into MIT, just to prove she could. In that black unicorn pajama that was the only sign of her being a child.
What kind of girl is addicted to black since she was a baby? Black and many different shades of dark red. I don't think I've ever seen her in any other color. Maybe white and gold, but mostly black and red. She was born a gothic indifferent introverted girl with superiority complex and nasty black cat energy.
It was insane to see a kid younger than me, addicted in pomegranate and strawberry based stuff, dark chocolate, and tea. Hah, that's something that breaks her character. She looks like someone addicted in caffeine, but she's addicted in tea instead, she always was, which she got from her papa. Zoe Maud got a lot from zio Christoffel, in a way that is mesmerizing.
And I'm not even talking about she's the only one with wavy hair as black as the feathers of a raven, golden skin, full heart-shaped pouty lips, expressive straight dark and full eyebrows, insanely long curvy lashes, with deep dimples in both side of her cheeks, small snub nose, and siren shaped eyes, like zio. When all of her siblings have straight golden blonde hair, big doe shaped eyes, shorter lashes, pale skin, round thinned lips, curvy and thin dark blonde eyebrows, no dimples, and a longer and straighter nose, like zia Anna.
Not to mention the light green eyes she took from her mama, while all the others took their dark forest green eyes from their papa. She stands out in more ways than just by being a prodigy with an extraordinary IQ, skilled at everything.
Since she was a child, she was always snub, sarcastic, ironic, with a dark sense of humor, bitter way of talking, and scrutiny that overflows from her gaze, even when she stares up at us for being shorter than all of us, we can feel how she is actually looking down on us, and I used to hate that when I was a kid. I was bitter and envious of her confidence, of the way she held herself even though she was so different from everyone, of the way she stand out even when she didn't intend to. There was something on her that kept make my gaze meet her.
I also felt jealous because of how mama seemed to adore her, when she was clearly an annoying narcissistic gothic dwarf. A black cat in the middle of a bunch of golden retrievers. And I felt envious every time mama decided to go out just with her, though it was hypocritical, since zio Christoffel did the same for me, and I liked it because she seemed to feel envious about it.
Then I lost mama and she didn't even give me a hug. No, she was cold. A part of me got angry because of the indifference of that girl when mama had all but been a second mama to her. She didn't even shed a tear in front of us, she was just visually tensed and shaken, but nothing else.
For some reason, she made me angry in a way no one else did, which was ridiculous because we almost never interacted at all.