Mr. Davies stands, clipboard in hand, drawing out the moment almost theatrically. “First, you all did wonderfully. Any of you could play this role. But the role of Magnolia goes to... Solana Youngblood.”
I gasp, my hands flying to my mouth. The other girls offer tight, forced congratulations, their disappointment and shock hardly concealed. Jennifer looks like she’s been slapped. Maya mutters something about diversity picks, which I ignore.
“Rehearsals start Monday,” the director continues. “Six p.m. sharp. Don’t be late. Congratulations, Solana. You earned this.”
I practically float out of the auditorium, pulling out my phone and texting Silver before I even hit the parking lot.
I GOT IT! I’M MAGNOLIA!
“Look who it is. Hey, blackout.”
The familiar voice makes me freeze midstep. I glance up from my phone to see Shay and Yvette approaching across the parking lot, and my good mood evaporates into nothing. Both girls look more pissed than I’ve ever seen them, making no attempt to hide their glares.
My body tenses, unease creeping up my spine.
But then I remember last night. I remind myself how I defended myself against Kel and watched him die without mercy. I helped dig his grave and buried him, and I’m not sorry about it.
Which means I’m not about to take any more disrespect. Not anymore.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“What did you do?” Shay asks back accusatorially. “You sent those bikers after Kel, right? Your uncle’s gang?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit!” Yvette spits. “Spencer told us everything. Some psycho from that club threatened to cut off his fingers. Now Kel’s not answering anyone’s texts. What the fuck did you do?”
They’re worried about him. These girls who watched me stumble and fall and saw me barely conscious that night are more worried about the man who took advantage of me than they’ve ever been about me.
They really were never my friends. I don’t know how it’s taken me this long to see it.
The shock of it morphs into burning outrage that heats my skin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it sounds like Kel and Spencer messed with the wrong person. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
“Listen, if we find out?—”
“You’ll what?” I interrupt coldly. “Am I supposed to give a shit? Let me tell you right now, I don’t. Get out of my way.”
A tense second passes where they glare at me and then exchange a look as if calculating what to do next. They step aside, letting me pass, but even as I do, I feel their heavy stares with every step I take.
This isn’t over. I already know Shay and the others won’t stop pushing for answers about Kel, but I’m also not worried. Isurvived last night, and I’ll get through whatever else they want to throw at me too.
I knock on Silver’s door as the sun sets behind me, painting the sky different shades of orange and pink.
When he answers, his features shift with visible conflict—his blue eyes narrow ever so slightly and his jaw sets, the thick Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing from a hard swallow. It’s as if he’s forcing himself to stand strong and not give the reaction he truly wants to.
“Solana,” he says slowly. “You didn’t mention you were coming over.”
“Can I come in? Please? I think we should talk.”
He considers me for another second, his internal war written across his face and evident in his tense, broad shoulders. Then he finally stands aside.
“Yeah… yeah, come in. I picked up pizza on the way home if you’re hungry.”
His house smells like pizza and the woodsy cologne he wears. Two scents that surprisingly go well together and make the corners of my lips quirk slightly.
Is it wrong I imagine coming home to him? To this after a long day where we then share dinner together?
