“Why?”
“Because she watches those crime documentaries and thinks every paparazzo is actually a serial killer who targets teenage girls.”
I groan into the blanket.
“This is too much, Shani. I wanted to speak out, not turn into… I don’t even know… whatever this is.”
“A movement?"
“Don’t.”
“A trailblazer?”
“Seriously, stop.”
She smirks. “An overnight TikTok star?”
I pull the blanket over my head.
She yanks it back down. “Jade, honey. No. You’re not just trending. You’re athing.Like, an actual cultural moment.”
“That’s worse!”
“No, sweetie, that’s iconic. People want to be you. You’re someone’s idol now.”
I stare at her like she just told me I’ve been drafted into Congress.
“I’m—what? No. No. No. I’m a girl who got slimed at homecoming and kissed the most confusing boy alive in a locker room last week.”
“And now you’re hot, dramatic, traumatized, and empowering. The perfect combo.”
“Shani!”
She kicks her legs up on the couch and shrugs.
“I’m just saying… celebrities don’t get to pick when the fame train hits the station.”
I bury my face in my hands.
“This is insane. I need coffee. Like, life-or-death coffee.”
“Why do you think we live near the barn?” she says. “The polo people keep an espresso cart on-site.”
I snort. “You’re making that up.”
“Am I?”
She grins, and I grin back despite everything.
Then my phone buzzes.
It’s Aunt Susan.
Susan:Don’t worry about Thanksgiving. I have Instacart. That’s what Instacart is for. You just get yourself through the night, honey.
Another message pops up.
Susan:And I’m ordering a guard dog statue for the porch. It’s decorative. But it’s something.
