Hopefully nowhere nearher.
Whywas Principal Unger in Philadelphia?! A nightmareflashed through my mind, of her discovering I’d faked my family emergency and leaving school so she could track me down and punish me in front of my peers.
Not only did I need to outwit her; I also needed to physicallyoutmaneuverher. In my gold Rylie Collection caged-toe heels!
Keep moving,I told myself, blood pounding in my ears as I teetered and tottered around people left and right.Just keep moving, and she won’t find you.
Although before long, I found Grace. Thanks to her post-tennis practice suicides, she was a flash in front of me. “G!” I called, waving at her when she pivoted.
“Isa, thank god!” She tried to smile, but I caught it waver, as if she wasn’t sure where we stood. It was clear she’d wanted to have a DMC earlier, but I hadn’t given it to her. I’d wanted to enjoy the street fair (and take the Everett of it all in). She paired a forced laugh with her forced smile. “How are your feet not killing you?”
“Let’s get off the street,” I said. “We’ll hide until we hear from Everett.”
Fittingly enough, we camouflaged ourselves among Anthropologie’s sample sale, which was set up right outside its front doors. Grace grabbed a cinnamon-colored suede Fedora off the freestanding coat hanger. “Here, this’ll look good on you,” she joked weakly, styling it on my head as I dug through my purse for Band-Aids (my feet, upon inspection, had some war wounds). Then she found a plum-colored hat for herself. We were both wearing our sunglasses, but I was grateful forthe extra dose of disguise. Anthropologie’s salesgirl gave me a cautioning look, as if to say,You’re going to pay for those, right?
After taping up my blisters, Grace and I walked wordlessly toward the dress section. The whimsical designs and sheer volume of fabric shielded us even more. Nothing was aggressively pink, so I doubted Principal Unger would stop to browse.
But the second Grace sighed with relief, I decided I was finally ready to talk—or, more accurately, go berserk. “I can’t believe it,” I said. “I can’t believe I listened to you—Inevershould’ve listened to you!”
Grace frowned and took off her aviators, confused. “What are you talking about?”
I ripped off my Jackie O glasses to stare her down. I was—dare I say it—about to pick a fight with my best friend. “What do you think I’m talking about?” I scowled. “Today, Grace. I’m talking about today. Inevershould’ve agreed to skip school—”
“Take the day off,” she interjected. “We’re just taking the day off.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right, exactly. I saidover and overthat it was irresponsible, and yet…” My hands went to my hips. “We’re going to get in trouble, Grace.Majortrouble.”
“Only if Principal Unger finds us.”
“Which she will,” I insisted. “Why else do you think she’shere?”
“She could’ve left school early for something,” Grace said, trying to keep things light but the puzzled look on her face revealing she still didn’t understand why I was so fixated onskipping school. It was like we were back in her kitchen this morning. “This could be a total coincidence—”
“Grace!” My voice leapt an entire octave. “I don’t care whether or not it’s a coincidence. She is here, and so are we.” I started circling the dresses, something in my chest tightening. “We are stupidly, stupidlyhere.I missed my history test!”
There was a beat of silence between us, the twisted look on Grace’s face revealing she was fighting the urge to ask a question. If I had to guess, it would’ve beenIsa, what the fuck?
“Oh, you missed your history test?” she eventually asked, deadpan.
I fell right into her trap, because I wanted to yell; Inevergot to yell. “Yes!” I burst out, and admittedly it feltgood.“I did! Third period! The rise of ochlocracy!”
“Ah, okay,” she sympathized before casually saying, “Tell me, Isa, are you a mobster?”
My brow knitted—now I was the puzzled one. Where was she going with this? Was she trying to calm me down? With sarcasm? “No…”
She nodded. “Do you ever plan onbeinga mobster?”
I slowed my pacing, then stopped. “I want to study abroad in Eastern Europe, but no, I don’t.”
“Great, awesome.” Grace pulled a grin. “Then why do you give a crap about rising mafia states?”
My cheeks warmed.
She shrugged. “I mean, what’s the point? It was open-book, anyway.”
I felt my face ignite into flames. This argument was sostupid, so immature, but it was the only one I could handle right now. Everett, James, Papá’s affair—I needed to push them away so I didn’t spiral into a panic attack. It was too much to confront right now. “The point is that it’s the last test before the final exam, Grace,” I told her. “The point is that it’s a big grade. The point is that I’m supposed to go to Harvard or Princeton or Yale—if one even lets me off their waitlist.”
“Brown is better!” she countered. “Brown loves you, and is not going to mind that you missed one day of school and had to make up a test! You can still go there and major in finance and minor in engineering or whatever.”
