My eyes flit to her prosthetic leg unconsciously. Unless you looked closely, you can barely tell it’s a prosthetic. She puts a lifelike silicone cover over the artificial limb, starting just below her knee, to match the shape and skin tone of her other leg. That’s why I didn’t notice it the first time I met her in our dorm room. In fact, it took a few days before she’d even been comfortable enough around me to take it off while lounging in our room.
“You’re a warrior, Iris—strong and beautiful from the inside out. If you ever need to be reminded of that, don’t be afraid to ask.” I drift to her side, bending to hug her just as Emmy had. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Her messy hands are on her lap, her appreciative eyes locked on me. “Thanks, Maeve.”
I exit the sculpting studio, knowing full well I’m the one who should be thanking Iris. She’s a fabulous friend, and to top it off, she’s just inspired my own midterm project. I love her even more for it.
15Earl Grey
Unfortunately, my instincts are spot on. I see Remi again, not two full days later, during my lunch break. He’s behind me and Iris in line at the coffee shop on campus, and if looks could kill, I’d be long dead already. This guy trulydespisesme.
“Like, seriously?” Iris says, trying to comfort me after we place our orders and pay the cashier. “How obvious is he trying to be? It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“No idea,” I reply. “But whatever imaginary artistic threat he thinks I pose to him, it must be really bad. And I’m not gonna lie, it kinda makes me feel like a badass.”
Iris laughs loudly. “Hell yeah! The only reason Remi-Fucking-Blake hates you is because your art is making it big, and his isn’t. Let him wallow in his jealousy.”
Just then, the barista calls out our orders, “Earl Grey tea and iced lavender latte.”
Shoulder-to-shoulder, Iris and I walk toward the counter to retrieve our drinks.
I reach out to take my tea, but someone beats me to it. The fingernails on the hand around my cup are painted varying shades of blue and red, reminding me of a too-hot flame.
“Youwouldbe a tea person,” Remi says with venom in his voice. “Just as bland in real life as you are on the canvas.” His thin-lipped smirk makes my stomach churn.
“Can you please let go of my drink?” I ask as evenly as I can, meeting his heated gaze.
“Seriously, Remi?” Iris asks, thoroughly exasperated. “Haven’t you reached your asshole quota already?”
Remi scowls at Iris before returning his attention to me. “Enjoy yourself at Lizbeth while you can. Something tells me you’ll be running for the hills soon.” I get a strong whiff of his stale breath as he removes his hand from my cup, and I swallow against the urge to gag.
Then he’s gone, as quickly as he arrived. I blink after him as nausea rolls through me in waves.
“God, it feels like he’s put a damper on this entire week,” Iris whines as we walk toward an empty table.
“At least we have tonight to look forward to,” I remind her. Our group of friends has plans to go on a haunted hay ride a few towns over.
“Ah, right. Friday, October 13th,” she affirms before taking a long drink of her latte. “So much creepy shit to look forward to. Yay.”
I laugh at Iris’s superstition, removing the lid off my tea before gently blowing at the steam. The scent of bergamot fills my nostrils, and the tense muscles in my shoulders relax in response. As I sip, my stomach finally settles down.
Iris and I chat while we enjoy our drinks, about everything and nothing at all, the way only good friends can, but time slips by too quickly.
“Ugh, time to get to my next class,” I grumble, checking the time on my wristwatch as I stand.
“Yeah, yeah,” Iris says dismissively, though the creases aroundher mouth show her disappointment while she waves me away. “See you later.”
Wispy swirls of fog engulf me as I push through the coffee shop doors, chilling me almost instantly. Just as it’s been all week long, the gray sky overhead is spitting a constant stream of icy drizzle onto the world. Stupidly, I didn’t pack an umbrella before I left the dorm this morning, so I toss my coat’s hood up over my head, which only offers minimal protection. Thankfully the walk to the Picasso Building, where most of the general studies classes are held, is a short one.
As I’m climbing the stairs to the fourth floor, I struggle out of my raincoat, eager to be free of the extra layer trapping heat against my skin. When I take my seat in class and get out my textbook, I flinch at a sudden and intense vibrating sensation taking root in my hands.
That’s weird. Tea doesn’t usually give me the jitters.
Eyes closed, I drag a slow lungful of stale classroom air in through my nose and out through my mouth, feeling the breath travel all the way to the tips of my shaking fingers. When my eyelids flutter open again, all of my focus is on the professor and their lecture.
But it only lasts so long. I’m able to focus for all of five minutes before I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that something is wrong. My face, back, and underarms are slick with sweat, and my mind races like a prized racehorse gunning for gold. I can only hold out for another few minutes before I shove my belongings back in my bag and race out of the room as inconspicuously as I can.
By the time I’m back outside, it’s fully raining. But now I’m grateful for the cool droplets splattering against my face, grounding me in the moment.You’ll be fine, I reason with myself, shaking my head.Nothing to worry about. You just have to ride out the jitters.
