It all started on a Saturday. One of those boring afternoons where there’s nothing to do except scroll through your phone, stare at the ceiling, or argue with your sister. I had already done the first two. So, naturally, it was time for option three.
“Hillary,” I called from the couch, “can you get me a soda from the top shelf?”
There was a long pause before she shouted back, “Can’t you get it yourself?”
I smirked. “Oh wait… I can’t.”
I heard her footsteps stomping down the hall. She rounded the corner, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “Very funny.”
“Come on,” I said, holding up the empty glass I was drinking from. “One soda. It won’t kill you.”
She sighed dramatically, but she grabbed one from the fridge and popped it open before handing it to me. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.”
“Generous? Please. You love showing off how tall you are.”
“Do not,” she said, but her little grin gave her away.
I stuck my tongue out at her. Classic sibling move. Then something caught my eye. When she handed me the can, her sleeve slid up just enough to reveal something weird on her wrist. A thin, silver bracelet I had never seen before. It had this little blue gem in the center that seemed to glow, just for a second.
“What’s that?” I asked, nodding toward her arm.
Hillary yanked her sleeve down fast. Too fast. “Nothing.”
Okay, red flag. Hillary was a terrible liar. Like, seriously. She couldn’t even lie about finishing her math homework without blinking like a broken traffic light.
“That’s not nothing,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Where’d you get it?”
“I… found it,” she said, turning toward the stairs. “It’s old. Mom’s, I think.”
I stood up and followed her. “Mom doesn’t wear jewelry like that.”
She picked up speed. “It’s not a big deal, Mollie!”
But now, I had to know. “Hillary!”
She bolted for her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Now, most of the time I wouldn’t care enough to chase after her. But something was definitely up. And I’m stubborn. Like, bullheaded stubborn. I knocked on her door. “Come on. What are you hiding?”
No answer.
Fine.
I went back downstairs and stewed about it for a while. But later that night, after Hillary went to the bathroom to brush her teeth, I snuck into her room.
I know. Not my finest moment. But desperate times, you know?
Her closet was a mess (no surprise), but after digging through a pile of hoodies and sneakers, I found a small wooden box tucked way in the back. It was heavy for its size, and it had this weird carving on the lid—almost like a tree with stars in its branches.
Inside? The bracelet.
And a note. Handwritten in this flowy script.
"For growth beyond your years, wear it near. But beware the price, for balance is clear."
I stared at it, my stomach doing somersaults. Growth beyond your years? Was this why Hillary was getting taller? Was this bracelet… magic or something?
I jumped at the sound of the bathroom door creaking open. Stuffing everything back in place, I scrambled out of her room just in time.
That night, lying in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Was Hillary choosing to grow taller? Was she using… magic? And if she was, why hadn’t she told me?
And, more importantly… if it worked for her, could it work for me?
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