Her gaze flew to mine, and I saw the anguish she’d been hiding. “A lot of it is about money. And about me.”
“About you?”
“I’m costing them a lot.” She gestured to the area of her bedroom dedicated to her design work. “None of that comes cheap. Plus, Dad doesn’t think it’s smart to just apply to London College of Fashion and the Rhode Island School of Design. And he thinks applying to Parsons is pointless.”
It was true, Parsons School of Design in New York was one of the best design schools in the world and incredibly hard to get into, but if anyone could, it would be Vicki. I told her so.
She looked saddened rather than encouraged. “Dad wants me to apply for a business degree at St. Andrews.”
I made a face, my stomach twisting with the thought. “No. No way. Vicki, you have to pursue fashion. You’re amazing at it.”
“Mum agrees.” She gave me a tired smile. “Which is why she and Dad have been arguing a lot. Dad thinks it’s all a waste of money.”
“I don’t get it. Your dad was always so supportive.”
“Well, now reality is setting in and he realizes it’s no longer a hobby.” She shook her head. “Never mind. It’ll work out. I’m sorry about Steph in English. I was hoping we’d sit together.”
I moved with the abrupt change in subject, although I was concerned Vicki had been dealing with this all summer and hadn’t told me. And probably wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t felt the tension in the house. Did Steph know? It bothered me to think Vicki had confided in Steph and not me.
Forcing the worry away I just nodded. “You seemed cool with her at lunch.” Even though she’d made our ears bleed talking about the upcoming impromptu audition and complaining that it was unfair for the teachers to have them give unpolished, unpracticed performances. It was only the first round of auditions, however, and she’d get a chance to practice for the second round if she made it.
Neither Vicki nor I had gotten a word in edgewise, but Vicki hadn’t seemed that concerned. Not that she was really a drama-llama anyway.
“Life is too short to get annoyed at Steph when she gets like that.” She shrugged. “Still, I could have used the break from her in class. Plus, I hate that you’re sitting on your own.”
“You know that if I couldn’t sit with you or Steph, I’d prefer to be on my own anyway.”
She nodded but stared in an assessing way.
“What?”
“I just... It would be great if you’d come out of your shell this year. People have no idea how cool you are.”
I chuckled. “Because I’m not. I can barely string two words together around new people and none around boys. Once upon a time you used to be the same.”
My friend gave me a sympathetic look. “I grew up, Comet,” she replied gently.
I flinched. “And I haven’t?”
“Just...just try harder. I think you still think you’re that little kid who couldn’t speak to her parents, much less anyone else. You’re not her anymore. Try. Please. For me?”
I nodded, the ham and cheese sandwich Mrs. Brown had made me suddenly tasting like dust in my mouth. The thought of trying to be more social made me uneasy. I didn’t want to be put in situations that made me sweat under my arms and flush strawberry red like a loser.
I wanted to feel safe and comfortable.
And I didn’t see what was so terrible about that.
THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG
4
How do you conquer each moment,
When you have no one on your side?
Make peace with the idea that life,
Is just one continuous high tide?
—CC
Walking toward form class for daily registration that morning, I saw Steph coming toward me and braced myself. I worried for a second that she knew Vicki and I had been avoiding her last night, but the nearer she got to me the bigger her smile grew. When we met outside the classroom door she threw her arms around me and hugged me.
Used to Steph’s impromptu displays of affection I laughed and hugged her back.
“That was for yesterday.” She pulled out of the hug but huddled against me as we walked into our form room together. “I know I just went on and on about myself. I got so worked up about the audition. Anyway, everything okay with you?”
And this was why it was difficult to stay mad at Steph. I smiled at her as we sat down at a table together. “Everything is fine with me. How did the audition go?”
“Wait, wait.” Vicki suddenly appeared, sliding into a seat at the table. “I want to hear.”
“I already apologized to Vicki on Snapchat last night,” Steph said, which explained Vicki’s renewed enthusiasm for supporting her.
“The audition?” Vicki said.
Steph beamed. “It went great. All those hours spent singing ‘All That Jazz’ in the shower paid off. They asked me back for another audition next week.”
I squeezed her arm. “Steph, that’s great. Well done.”
“Thanks. Ahh! I so want to play Roxie.”
“You’d be the perfect Roxie,” Vicki insisted.
“Not if I have anything to do with it.”
In unison, we turned toward the new voice, and residual anger from long ago burned in my throat. Heather. It was hard for me not to resent her, and I wasn’t sure I cared if that made me unforgiving.
Vicki leaned back in her seat, one eyebrow raised. As cool and laid-back as my friend was, she could also emanate serious pissed-off vibes. Like now. “And what does that mean?”
Heather smirked. “I made it to the second round auditions, too.” Her gaze zeroed in on Steph, who was staring up at her with a mixture of guilt and irritation in her eyes. “And I’m going after the part of Roxie.”
This was a surprise, because Heather had been director’s assistant on the school shows for the past few years. She loved bossing people around. She had not, however, played a part before.
Why now?
Perhaps because Steph had snogged Heather’s ex-boyfriend at her party and she was evil and vindictive?
We were all thinking it.
Vicki snorted. “Good luck with that, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
“Why?” Heather’s gaze locked with Steph’s. “Because you’re so special? Aye, right.”
“Take a walk, McAlister,” Vicki huffed. “No one likes a drama-llama.”
My onetime nemesis gave Vicki a narrow-eyed gaze but strutted across the room, hips swaying, hair swinging, and took a seat with her friends.
“I hate the way she walks.” Steph glowered. “Where does she think she is? At a bloody runway show?”
There was a tiny, tiny part of me that was a little gleeful about all this. It was wrong. It was small. I knew that. But Steph had been disloyal once in order to play nice with Heather McAlister, and now she was getting a taste of why it was futile to suck up to a girl like Heather. She enjoyed causing problems and misery for people.
“What a cow.” Steph turned to look at us, her blue eyes round with shock. “Was she always such a cow?”
Vicki and I exchanged a look. “Yes.”
“God. You kiss someone’s ex-boyfriend and you might as well have murdered him, the way she’s acting.”
I caught sight of movement in my peripheral and turned as Andy Walsh, a video-game-and-rugby-obsessed boy in our class who somehow managed to cross social cliques with admirable proficiency, leaned his chair on its back legs toward us. He balanced it perfectly as he whispered to us, “It’s not about Lister. She’s just pissed off because King messed around with her at her party but doesn’t want to date her.”
Tobias.
“So she’s taking it out on me?” Steph whined.
Andy shrugged. “She’s taking it out on everyone. And it’s not like King made her any promises.”
I noted the hero worship in Andy’s eyes and just stopped myself from rolling mine.
Vicki grinned at him. “Seriously? That would make him the first guy to not run around panting at Heather’s arse.”
Andy grinned back. “The guy is a god among men.”