Circle of Death Read Free Page B

to fly away. By the time she was seventeen, Juliet was totally out of control. Partying every night, drinking and smoking, sleeping around—engaging in every bit of destructive behavior imaginable. I begged her to be careful, to take care of herself. I loved her more than anyone on Earth, but my love wasn’t enough to make her stay.
    The day she turned eighteen, Juliet ran off. She’d fallen in with a local biker gang, a really hardcore group of guys. She left us a note saying that she’d decided to join up with them as some sort of groupie, and that we shouldn’t come looking for her. She was a legal adult, and too damn stubborn to reconsider, so my parents had no choice but to let her go.
    I was devastated by her abandonment, and resolved to never be anything like her. I dove headfirst into my studies, my writing, and did my best to put her out of mind. But no matter how well I did in school, how many prizes I won, how many colleges I got into, no accomplishment was good enough to dispel the ghost of my departed sister from my parents’ hearts. It wasn’t until I went away to school that I finally felt free of her lingering, stifling presence.
    But as much as I hate to admit it, I’m still feeling the impact of what Juliet did. Because of her betrayal, I keep my heart safely locked away. I’m immediately suspicious of anyone who wants to be my friend, and insanely selective about the guys I’ll even consider dating. I can’t stand the thought of coming to love someone, the way I loved Juliet, and having them leave me behind. I’ve sworn never to let myself get hurt like that again, and so far I’ve managed just fine. I may not be the most popular girl in school, or have the most notches in my bedpost, but at least I’m seldom vulnerable to heartbreak.
    Of course, being safe from heartbreak means being safe from love, too...but that’s a conundrum to tackle another day.
    I’m just about to close my laptop when a new email pops into my inbox with a ding. I glance at the message, expecting some junky advertisement for penis enlargement or the like. But the email’s subject line makes my heart skip a beat.
     
    Interview Request from Advance Media, Re: Logan Farrah
     
    “Holy shit,” I whisper, hastily opening the message. I sent my resume to the media giant Advance on a wishful whim a few months ago. Could they seriously be reaching out to little ol’ me about an interview? I read the email with bated breath.
     
    Dear Ms. Farrah,
     
    We have received your resume and are very impressed with your scholastic record and achievements. If you are available, we would like to schedule an interview with you in the coming days. One of our popular media outlets is currently seeking editorial contributors. We think you would be a wonderful fit for the online publication,
FootSolider
. If you are interested, please let us know so that we can forward your information to
FootSoldier’s
managing editor. We look forward to hearing from you—
     
    I can’t even read the last few lines of text—my vision is swimming with excited glee. I let out a squeal of joy, leaping out of my chair and dancing ecstatically around my dorm room. In a flash, Emma is right back in my doorway, staring perplexedly at me as I jump and jive all over the place.
    “What the hell is going on?” she asks, befuddled by my outburst.
    “I just got an email from Advance Media!” I cry, clasping Emma by the shoulders.
    “Okay...?” she replies. Emma is not exactly the most plugged-in person on the planet.
    “They own, like, every blog and online publication on the East Coast. At least the ones that are worth reading,” I babble on. “There’s an opening at one site, FootSolider , and they want me to come in for an interview!”
    Emma may not have any interest in blogs, but even she recognizes the word “interview”.
    “Logan, that’s wonderful!” she cries, throwing her arms around me, “I knew something was going to come through for