Page 7 of Hunger & Harmony

“Cadie.”

Fifteen hours since even hearing her voice hits me like a truck. Hot tears flood down my face.

“Wait, are you crying?” she asks, to which I sniffle pathetically. “Hey, you promised only smiles.”

“It’s hard to do that,” I admit. “Shouldn’t I be happier? I literally just got here.”

“Don’t you always say there’s nothing wrong with crying?” she asks, and I half laugh and sob.

“Because you never cry.”

“Still. Take your own advice,” she says.

Viola is the definition of tough love. She’s always been a voice of reason. It’s a good balance to my crybaby tendencies.

“You’re right, too,” she continues. “You just got there. Cut yourself some slack. You got used to campus life, right?”

I don’t want to remind her it was only because of her that I survived. While she’s always felt like a big sister I’ve grown up with, I’ve only known her for a few years.

Until I literally crashed into her life, I’d barely met anyone like her. Never a single strand of her long, chocolate hair out of place. Her flawless eyeliner drawn almost as sharply as her violet gaze. And her voice. I nearly ran away when I realized she was majoring in music. While I can’t hold a single note, she could draw a full auditorium for her humming alone.

There’s not a crumb of envy in my heart, though. I’m so lucky she’s my best friend.

“You’re right,” I say with another sniffle.

“I know.”

We share a giggle.

“Enough about me,” I say, eyes focused on the moon. “How’re you feeling? You’re about to kick off your world domination!”

Her laughter tapers off, but I can hear her smile.

“I’ve been working years for this,” she says, voice soft and steady. “My mind is at ease now that I’m finally here.”

Always her mind, not her heart. Typical Viola. My grin widens.

“Don’t forget about me when you’re queen of the pop,” I tease.

“Aren’t you the real traitor here? Miss rock band PA?”

My jaw unhinges. As I howl with laughter, I steady myself on the window.

“Hey, that's all we could manage!”

“I know, I know. It’s still so funny to me. The pop supremacist working for Arteria.”

I can’t contain a groan.

“Everyone’s kind of weird, too. Even Lo got all serious and strict!”

She snorts, which sends me into more laughter.

“King Niklaus literally called me a juice box!”

“What?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I got reprimanded, but I don’t regret calling him a jerk over it.”