But before Sev can get his chopsticks in the box, Atticus has snatched it right from his hands, sealed it back up, and set it on the table in front of Aurora.
"Take it with you," he says, eyes dropping to her waist and legs, which I'm now noticing have lost some volume. "You aren't eating enough. We need you strong."
For what’s coming.
He doesn’t say it. None of us do. But we’re all thinking it.
29
ASSHOLES AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE
AURORA
"With an average of forty thousand new tracks added to streaming services daily, it's becoming more and more difficult for new voices to be discovered," Professor Ryan lectures from the front of the auditorium, indicating a graph on the smart board.
Maisie clears her throat next to me. "But with the prevalence of social media avenues like TikTok, isn't it also true that musicians who otherwise wouldn't have been discovered at all have now been given the opportunity to increase their odds of success by using such platforms?"
Professor RyanhatesTikTok. His mouth twists at its mention.
"Perhaps, but some prefer to let their music do the talking. Not everyone enjoys flaunting themselves on camera forviews."
I scoff. "Isn't that the point of stardom?"
A few murmurs rise from the rest of the class, and I think I've struck a nerve, but I wasn't only trying to support what Maisie said. She's right. Those who refuse to use platforms like the video streaming app are missing out on the potential for exposure they may not get elsewhere.
"I mean, of course it's about the music," I say, trying to backtrack. "But?—"
"Moving on," the professor interrupts, and I see Maisie wince in my peripheral vision. "Who can tell me how the rise of streaming services has affected the habits of listeners?"
The rest of the class is basically the antithesis of my entire fucking essay, and I know right away that I'll be failing that assignment. Not because it lacks merit. No. Ithasmerit and facts, but because I presented them in a way thatfavorsstreaming services and social media platforms as a means of marketing, my prof is totally going to fail me.
Great.
At least my whole reason for being here is a sham.
It shouldn't matter to me what grade I get.
So then, why am I contemplating payback for Professor Ryan in the form of bodily harm? What is wrong with me?
"Oh my god, that was so brutal," Maisie says as soon as we're out of the room. "Maybe we went the wrong way with your subject."
I shake my head, going straight for the vending machine down the hall. Needing a treat to quell the murderous thoughts. Nothing a little chocolate can't fix.
Digging around in my bag, I search for my card or my phone, but grumble wordlessly when I can't seem to locate either of them.
The machine in front of me chirps, and I look up to see that Bailey has tapped his phone to the reader. "Snickers, right?" he asks.
He doesn't wait for me to answer before he pushes the button combination for my favorite chocolate bar. "I take it you lost my number?"
"No."
Not unless throwing it in the trash counts as 'losing' it.
"Ouch." He retrieves the bar from the vending machine. "What's got you all worked up?"
"Oh, it's our prof," Maisie fills in for me while Bailey—tall, blond, jocky, annoyingBailey—dangles the Snickers overhead. "She did her paper on streaming services. Specifically, how the music industry generated record revenue thanks to them."
Bailey makes a face like he's sorry for my loss, and I snatch the chocolate bar from him without saying thank you.
