“Don’t read that,” my best friend, Cass, said, pointing at the offending Instagram post on my phone. My friend since grade three, Cass always knew what was best for me. But—ugh. Ugh. Ugh. It was too late. What a way to start the first day of my last year of high school.
Cass and I were standing on a TTC bus on our way to school, and I’d given in to temptation and checked out the bane of our school’s entire existence, the Earl’s Whispers Instagram account. I should not have been torturing myself like this. Earl’s Whispers had been a major contributor to my complete and utter downfall last year. The account had gone silent all summer—but was obviously back at full force for the first day of school. I hadn’t got the distinction of being the first gossip of the day, though. That honor went to Abigail Schwartz, who was outed at six a.m. for lying about her summer job—she had not been working at a Yorkville Avenue boutique, but apparently at a Walmart across town. I didn’t think it was much of a controversy, but Abigail’s rep as the school’s top fashionista was going to take a hit.
“I’d hoped this stupid account wouldn’t be a thing this year,” I said now, dutifully closing the page.
Cass snorted. “Of course it’s still a thing. Earl’s is the worst school in Toronto, remember? Ignore it. One more year, then we put this whole hellhole school behind us.” They shifted closer to me as more people got on the bus.
I agreed with Cass. Honestly, I wished I could go back in time to grade nine, when Mom came at me with a plan to graduate high school in three years instead of four. My guidance counselor had talked her out of that idea. Mrs.Singh was big on school/life balance. But clearly, I should have listened to Mom.
And anyway, after a summer of hell, I was pretty sure school/life balance was a pipe dream. At our age, schoolwaslife, whether we wanted it to be or not.
The bus lurched to a stop—we had the thrill-seeker bus driver this morning—and I clutched the yellow pole tighter. My good friendAimee got on, and sat near where we were standing. Aimee was a school friend, but I hadn’t really talked to her much over the summer. She’d been at a photography camp, and I hadn’t been feeling very social. Cass and I were close with Aimee even though she was the only artist in our little math and science nerd crew. As she sat, her sunny smile attracted attention from several riders around us.
Or maybe it was her outfit.
“Looking good, Aim,” Cass said.
I nodded appreciatively.
Aimee, as expected, had gone all out for the first day of school. Her long hair was dyed half-pink and half-black. She wore a black lace blouse with a high Victorian collar, a short black pleated skirt with lace edging, fishnet tights, and black boots. Plus elaborate dark eye shadow and black eyeliner, and a deep purple lipstick. She wore it all well—with her pale Irish skin, she looked like she’d been born in an Edgar Allan Poe poem. I loved her look. She’d even convinced me to start wearing dark eyeliner after Devin dumped me, telling me that a makeover was the best remedy for heartbreak. I wasn’t sure just eye makeup could be considered amakeover, but it went with the black clothes I wore most of the time, and made me look closer to my actual age. Also? Devin hadn’t seen the eyeliner yet, but I knew he’dhateit, and that was another good reason for me to start wearing it.
Aimee looked back at us, head tilted. “It’s the first day of school? I don’t get why you two didn’t put more thought into your outfits. Cass, I understand: sweatshirts are, like, your uniform. But Samaya ... you need to look good for ...”
Aimee didn’t finish her sentence. Which was good because I was pretty sure she was going to say Devin.
Cass was in their standard blue jeans and hoodie combo—this one in a bright teal that brought out their natural, pink-tinged cheeks. Cass was half-Chinese on their mom’s side but inherited their father’sblush-prone complexion. I always felt like the lone dark sheep when I was with my two closest friends.
“Ididput thought into this,” I said, indicating my clothes. I’d put on black jeans and Vans sneakers today, and the new black T-shirt my sister made me that was covered in math calculations in my own handwriting. And, of course, my new dark eye makeup. I thought I looked pretty good. And I didn’t care at all what Devin would think about my appearance, anyway. Mostly.
My phone notification went off. It was theDragon Arenachatting app.
LostAxis:Have a spectacular first day of school.
I smiled as I returned the sentiment.
“Is that the guy you’ve been gaming with?” Cass asked, hearing the notification.
I raised a brow. “You have your own phone. You don’t have to read mine.”
Aimee shook her head. “Besties don’t have secrets. Are you seriouslystilltalking to that guy? The Dark Mage you met online last winter, right?”
I nodded.
“You talk even outside of game?”
“Yes.”
Aimee shook her head, disappointed. “You’ve been keeping this from us. Spill. I want to hear everything. Are you, like,talking, or just talking?”
Cass frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“Talkingis like ... you know, going somewhere. Flirting.”
“There is no flirting,” I said. Well, maybe there wassomeflirting, but not really. Calling usduo goalswasn’t really flirting. “We’ve done a bunch of duo quests together. He’s a Dark Mage, I’m a Light. We got three Obsidian Staffs yesterday.”
“Shut. Up,” Cass said. “For real?Threestaffs?”
“Totally serious. We each kept one and sold the third.”
