Blood Sisters

“I wish I had a sister,” I sigh. “She would fit perfectly in my family portrait.” I hold my drawing out to my seatmate. “She’d go right there,” I point.
“I can be your sister,” she smiles shyly.
“That’s impossible. We don’t share the same blood!” I shoot back. She rummages through her pencil case and pulls out a compass.
“If we took a blood oath, that’d make us sisters for life!”
She places the sharpened point against my index finger. I pull away and turn back to my drawing. Having a sister sounds painful . . . I’ll draw a puppy here instead.