Who the hell are these girls?
“What about you?” I ask Iris.
“Whataboutme?”
“Why did you choose art?”
She blinks and her mouth pops open. She obviously hadn’t been anticipating that question.
“Oh, this is a good one. Storytime!” Emmy squeals as she drops down onto Iris’s bed.
“No,” Iris argues. “I just met her. I’m not telling her—”
“Glade, darling. Youlikeher, and you know it. Get over yourself and spill the tea,” Emmy insists.
Iris flips Emmy off and takes a deep, reluctant breath before she speaks. “I almost died from cancer when I was eight. Osteosarcoma. The child life specialist at the hospital I basically lived at introduced me to art. It’s what got me through it all: chemo, radiation, the... amputation, and rehab. Art saved my life.” She speaks as quickly as possible, as if I don’t deserve to be learning this truth about her.
And who knows? Maybe I don’t.
Emmy sighs reverently. “Oh, I just love that story. A tale of bravery, gusto, and passion. I swoon every time.” She rolls onto her back, throwing her arms dramatically to the sides.
“Wow. That’s inspiring,” I say, but it feels inadequate.
“That’s why Glade is the valedictorian of our class,” Emmy gleefully brags on her friend’s behalf, rolling back to her stomach, feet pumping back and forth in the air. “Her dedication to the craft is unmatched.”
“Enough,” Iris chides, throwing a pen at her.
“Look, we’re planning on going to a party tonight,” Emmy says as she easily dodges the plastic projectile. “Do you want to come with?”
“Are you sure?” I confirm, noting the flash of annoyance in Iris’s gaze.
“Positive,” she replies with a nod. “But we’re going to have to find you a different outfit, babe. I’m not bringing you looking like that.”
I look down at my high-rise jeans and long-sleeved crop top, confused. “Uh, okay.”
“Don’t worry, I have just the thing for you.”
I swallow hard as Emmy dashes from the room and I’m left beneath Iris’s cold, calculating gaze.
Franco was right again. Iamin for a wild ride.
10Not Fake
The outfit Emmy dresses me in is undeniably hot. I’m donning a thin, silver slip dress under a stylish, oversized blazer with chunky black boots. The dress is a few inches too long on me, given our height difference, but I couldn’t care less. It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone anyway.
Before we leave the dorm, I text Noah and Alexis to let them know how my first day went. Alexis doesn’t respond right away (of course), but Noah’s immediate response is more muted than usual. For a moment, I’m taken aback, but then I remind myself that it’s probably just because he’s sad. And I understand that, really, I do. I’m sad too, in a way, but I’m also exhilarated. Tonight, I’m actually going to try and make some new friends. Hell, I think I’m already halfway there with Emmy. She seemed to honestly delight in hearing about Noah and gossiping about Phantom while getting ready with me.
Iris, not so much. She’ll definitely take more time to warm up. But I’m determined.
When the three of us are ready, we leave the dorm, walking out into the chilly September night. The brisk wind sends a wave of goosebumps skating across the skin of my bare legs.
“Where’s this party anyway?” I ask, already shivering. “We’re all underage, right? I don’t turn twenty-one for another two months.”
Iris rolls glitter-lidded eyes. “It’s like she’s never been to a party before.”
“House party,” Emmy explains. “Our friend Zayne lives right off campus.”
I can tell when we’re getting close because a few minutes later, I feel more than hear the pounding bass. The sound system in the house must be blasting at full volume for us to be able to sense it from here.
