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asked,” Petula said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Scarlet noticed Petula scoping the piles of band tees, jeans, and cords that were strewn around the room.

“What were you doing out so late anyway?” Scarlet inquired.

“Let me help you,” Petula offered, ignoring the question and instead scooping up an armload of her sister’s castoffs.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Scarlet responded insincerely.

“It’s no trouble,” Petula explained hesitatingly, as she picked up as much as she could carry. “I can cut up these old tees and make little rocker rompers. For, you know, the babies.”

The fact that Petula would ask to borrow some of her seconds, even for a crafts project, was a clear sign to Scarlet that something was seriously wrong with her sister. But she decided not to show any concern and just play along.

“Suit yourself,” Scarlet shot back skeptically, wondering what on earth had gotten into Petula now.

“Something like that,” Petula answered cryptically.

Chapter 5 Playing the Angel

But the thoughts we try to deny

Take a toll upon our lives

We struggle on in depths of pride

Tangled up in single minds

—Portishead

Missed Oppurtunity.

We don’t miss what we never had, but we miss terribly things we almost had. And we miss things we used to have most of all. Though we hope and pray for our relationships, our looks, and our lives to improve, having more also means having more to lose.

The walk home after Markov’s announcement—or sentencing, more appropriately—felt especially long today, which was fine with Charlotte. She was walking with Eric. They didn’t get a lot of private time, so these strolls meant a lot to her, and to him, she hoped. She decided to take the opportunity to get to know him a little better, for Pam’s and Prue’s sake, if not for her own.

“So, where were you?” Charlotte asked.

“You mean when I was late for work this morning?” Eric asked.

“No, silly,” Charlotte laughed. “Before you came here.”

Eric tightened up a little. It was clear he didn’t like talking about his past.

“I was a dropout,” he volunteered slowly. “So even though I died onstage, I still had to go through Dead Ed to get my boneyard GED, I guess,” Eric said, the unpleasant memory of it obviously still with him.

“You were from Hawthorne, right?” Charlotte asked. “That’s probably why they sent you here when you crossed.”

“Could be,” Eric said, sort of indifferently. “To be honest, I never really felt at home at Hawthorne.”

“Neither did I,” Charlotte added, noting something else they had in common.

Charlotte loved being with him. Not in a showy, PDA, look-at-me-I-have-a-boyfriend kind of way, but rather in a way that made her feel completely herself. Not at ease entirely, but comfortable. She felt she could tell him anything and he would understand. But she hadn’t actually tried to until now.

“Do you think this new assignment is their way of keeping us apart?” Charlotte asked, hoping his reaction would provide the status of his feelings for her. It was the early days and she was still feeling pretty insecure.

“What’s with all the conspiracy theories, Juliet?” Eric asked flatly. “That’s not rock.”

She still wasn’t sure what actually constituted “rock” and what didn’t, but she had come to understand that it was of the utmost importance to Eric. Not in a Metal Mike thickheaded way, she assured herself, but in the simple, cool, and charming Eric way.

Charlotte gulped, “I just mean, why now?” She pivoted, still looking for support, but a bit less obviously. “Aren’t you suspicious at all?”

“Man, I thought it was rock stars that were supposed to have big egos,” Eric responded, only half kidding.

Charlotte was hurt, and even Eric, who was not that great at reading her moods, took her expression as a clear sign that he was being insensitive.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” Eric said, brushing her arm with