And don’t start with me about the Kardashians.
They don’t have my mother.
“The only thing worth celebrating is that I’ve discovered it’s time to save your soul,” Gigi replies.
For once, I don’t have a quick answer.
Not even a ditzy one.
“I want you on the next flight home,” she continues. “Your parents, plus Phoebe and Carter, will be joining us for the next year in a small town in northern Wisconsin, where we’ll all live together, worktogether, do charity together, and learn to be better citizens of the world so that you all don’t go to hell.”
“Gigi, that’s really sweet of you to invite me, but I have photo shoots and product testing and—”
“And I’m freezing your trust fund.”
My breath whooshes out so hard I physically have to bend over.“What?”
“I’m freezing your trust fund.”
“Gigi—”
“Tickled Pink, Wisconsin, is home toPink Gold. The blueprint to saving our souls. This is not optional. If you want your little cacao farm’s bills to continue to be paid, you’ll get your rear end on a plane andcome home. Now.”
Oh God. She knows.
She knows.
“I—don’t know—what you’re talking about,” I stammer.
“Octavia, do you know what it’s like to choke, pass out, think you’re dying, see the flames of hell looming ahead as your eternal reward, and realize you haveone chanceto straighten out this family that you’ve let become a group of selfish, insensitive, entitled asses?”
“Gigi.”
“You have twenty-four hours. I’m not wasting any more time letting you all run about taking oxygen that could be used by people who actually stand a chance of getting into heaven.”
“I am not a waste of oxygen.I’m doing important things here. I’msavingpeople, Gigi. I’m saving the earth and a farm and people’s jobs and a town and my—”
“We’ll discuss it in Wisconsin. And if you don’t show up, you won’t have to wonder who outed you for eating meat and sugar in addition to selling your little farm. I’ll do it, and I’ll do it for your own good. Are we clear?”
My eyes are hot. My chest hurts. My stomach hurts worse.
And despite the fact that I regularly run over fifty miles a week, my legs can’t hold me up anymore.
My bones are buzzing bees, and my muscles are made of dust.
“Gigi, I can be a good person.” My voice is thick, and Ihatethat. I hate letting my family see my weaknesses. They’re the first people who would use them against me. “Iama good person. I do good things. I can come for—Gigi?”
I pull the phone back and peer at it.
She hung up.
Shehung up.
“Tavi?” Naomi whispers behind me.
I swipe at my eyeballs. “I have to go. My grandmother—extortion—Naomi. Don’t freak out, okay?”
The only person in the world who’s ever let me just beme—who treats me like a sister merelybecauseI’m me, therealme—stares back at me with round brown eyes. “I think we’re past that.”
