“Shut your mouth.”
“Come on. Remember the last time? You let me grovel for fifteen minutes, making me think that you were angry at me?”
“No, can’t say that I do.”
“Liar.”
“I almost had a motherfucking heart attack, you fucker.”
“But you still love me.” She looked at me, grinning.
“Barely.”
I switched on her radio and opened my Bluetooth to connect my phone to it.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? Playing some music.”
“You know I don’t let other people play music in my car?”
“Good thing I’m not other people then.” In less than ten seconds, I connected my phone to her radio and played the song I knew she would love.
“No, you’re my sister from another mister. I might forgive you for everything if you play this song every single day for me.”
“Shivers” by Ed Sheeran blasted through the speakers and both of us started dancing in our seats when she stopped at the red light right before our school.
“So, coffee?” She looked at me.
“Is the sky blue?” I asked her, scrolling through my phone, trying to find the next song.
“Do you really want me to answer that question? Because if you look out, today looks like shit.”
I did look outside, only to see a familiar black Camaro driving toward the school.
“It really does look like shit.”
3
SOPHIE
Biancaand I met in the fifth grade at the very end of the summer break, when her family just moved into Whitebrook Hill. It was love at first sight. She’d been threatening an eighth grader, telling him that she would make his nuts disappear if he ever looked at another kid in a bad way.
I was slowly passing by, waiting for Noah, when she looked at me and exclaimed, “You.” I thought she was going to beat me up or something, but instead, she asked me to help her escort the kid, that was hiding behind her, home. On the way there, I found out that her favorite color was violet, not purple or lavender, but violet, and that she hated bullies.
I also learned that her parents recently separated, which was why she moved here with her dad.
We’d been best friends ever since.
She offered me on multiple occasions to go and beat up Noah for what he did and how he treated me, but I always laughed it off. I knew she would do it or something worse, like scratch his Camaro, and I really didn’t want her to get into that kind of trouble.
Touching Noah’s beloved Camaro was one thing that could really make him pissed off, and he and Bianca never really got along.
“So, are you feeling better?” She eyed me while we walked through the parking lot toward the entrance door. “Or were you just lying to me while you were moping around, crying over an asshole that wouldn’t know what he had even if you hit him in the face?”
I laughed at her exaggeration, but I would rather she think that I was moping around than that I was lying in my bed, unable to move because the headaches were getting stronger and stronger.
“I’m better, and I wasn’t moping around.”
